The Boy Who Tamed the Sourwolf
by shiro8402
Summary: Stiles is used to being second tier in everyone's life. How easily people forget him and move on to bigger and better things. Used to always being in someone's shadow. Leave it to Derek Hale to shatter those expectation
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everybody, I would like to say the story that I publish are not written by me.**

**My account only give a stage for stories I read and thought it would be more comfortable to read them hear at fanfiction.**

**The story is called****:**The Boy Who Tamed the Sourwolf

**By:****AllTheseSquaresMakeACircle**

**From: Archive Of Our Own (or for short: ao3)**

**{** ** /works/8683210/chapters/19905799}**

**Summery;** Stiles is used to being second tier in everyone's life. How easily people forget him and move on to bigger and better things. Used to always being in someone's shadow. Leave it to Derek Hale to shatter those expectation

Stiles silently thanked whatever gods were listening that his Jeep was in working order. It had finally happened. The climax in a series of events that led him to this point. Really, it had been happening for some time. But it all started the day he met Scott. They were seven years old, on the playground. Scott had been fidgeting for fifteen minutes. Stiles had been watching him with interest, wondering why a lone boy was just standing there. Eventually, Scott could no longer remain where he was. He snuck over to the sandbox, where he then proceeded to piss for all he was worth. Stiles couldn't help but laugh. Scott heard his giggling and tumbled over into the pee covered sand, ruining his clothes. Feeling guilty, Stiles ran over and introduced himself. They had been inseparable ever since.

For the next ten years, they were as close as brothers. Stiles was there when Scott was diagnosed with asthma, his body turning against itself. He was there when Scott's jerk of a father left without warning. Scott was there when Stiles' mom got sick and began to wither. He was there when she died. He was there when the world seemed to fall to pieces. They were best friends. Together through it all. But that began to change freshman year.

Despite a chronic breathing problem, Scott had the bright idea to try out for the lacrosse team. The coach was a man named Bobby Finstock. He was loud, crude, and not all together kind. Stiles liked him right out of the gate. Mainly because he enjoyed screwing with him. Scott, despite his asthma, made it to the team. Stiles, in all his brilliance, found his way onto the team as well. Though the both of them hardly ever saw any action of the field. Stiles was clumsy and tripped over his own feet on the best of surfaces. Scott's asthma was a hindrance more often than not. Even still, they were there together, as they always were. And for Stiles, that was more than enough. Then, sophomore year came, and things really began to change.

It began with Scott finding a new treatment for his asthma. It involved a new type of steroid coupled with a breathing treatment. The results were astonishing. Scott was able to run longer and faster. His stamina improved. All around, his physical restrictions fell away. Stiles was impressed. They trained relentlessly. Scott was determined to make first line. Stiles just wanted to play. And their work paid off. When it came time for tryouts, Scott breezed through them. Even Jackson had a hard time keeping up. The blonde teen was furious at his new competition. Scott just smiled that goofy smile of his as coach announced his position for first line. And that of course, is when shit hit the fan.

Stiles had become accustomed to not having many friends. Scott, in truth, was his only one. For more reasons than not. Stiles was loud, fidgety, and rarely held focus on anything. He dressed in oversized flannels and loose fitting jeans. It was his thing. He owned it as best he could. People just weren't interested in him. There wasn't really anything to be interested in really. There were a few that were at least civil towards him. Danny always had a smile and a friendly jab for him. Others, well, others were just assholes. Jackson was a prime, grade-A douchebag. He made it a point to humiliate Stiles at every chance. Be it on the field or in the locker room. Lydia, the girl of his dreams, was hardly even aware of his existence. It hurt to mean so little to others. But he grew used to it. As long as he had Scott, he would be okay. Then one day, Scott wasn't there.

Her name was Allison, and from the moment she had moved to Beacon Hills, Scott was lost. He fell into her like nothing else. And since Allison had attracted the attention of Lydia, Scott was, by default, part of their group. With his rising stardom on the field, Scott was readily accepted. Jackson was actually civil towards him. Lydia treated him like a person rather than a pest. And all the while, Allison was goo-goo over him. It was painful in ways that words couldn't describe. Seeing his best friend, his only friend, taken from him. To be happy in that way.

At first, Stiles understood. It was easy to get. Scott wanted to be more than the awkward kid with asthma and floppy hair. He wanted to be more than the butt of the joke. To be the inevitable punch line. And he succeeded. Only, he had forgotten about Stiles. Nights once spent studying were now spent with Allison. Saturdays meant for video games were replaced with trips to the mall. Scott was consumed with his new life and his new friends.

Stiles tried his best not to be hurt. Tried not to cry when Scott missed every holiday with nothing more than a text apologizing for not being there. That he didn't show up when Stiles got his letter telling him that he was now the second most academically accomplished student at school. He didn't even cry when Scott forgot that it was the anniversary of his mother's death. Which they would always spend together, in the cemetery, watching the clouds and talking about nothing. But there were some things that Stiles couldn't forgive. Some things that he couldn't see past.

After months of being forgotten and brushed off, Stiles had decided to try and mend things with Scott. It was his friend's birthday. And he had gotten him a gift. A rather kickass one actually. A brand new, titanium lacrosse stick. Able to withstand just about any amount of damage, the perfect tool for the field. He knew that Scott needed a new one. Melissa had always been dutiful about keeping the house in order. A single mother in California had a hard time paying bills. Stiles knew that no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn't afford new gear for Scott. So Stiles took it upon himself to start tutoring people.

It was a slow and thankless job for the most part. Half the kids that came to him just wanted the answers to their homework. Stiles sent those ones packing. The few that did stay learned quickly, and the money came in. He didn't charge much. And it took him several weeks. But he met some interesting people along the way. Isaac was meek and withdrawn. Utterly clueless in the ways of chemistry, Stiles helped him memorize formulas and apply them to the appropriate problem. They may have both been terrible at the lab work, but they could do well enough with the written portion.

Erica was small and timid. She shivered constantly, despite how much clothing she always wore. Her issue was history. The area of names and dates always presented a problem. Stiles, despite his shortcomings, had a knack for remembering things like that. Erica excelled quickly. She and Isaac were repeat customers. And in some small way, they became almost-friends. At the very least, they got along. It felt good when nothing else did.

When he had the money, Stiles ordered the stick online, splurging to have Scott's initials engraved on the handle. It was pricey, but worth it. He couldn't wait to see the look his face when he delivered it. Stiles could hardly contain himself at school. Scott had said hi on their way to class. The acknowledgement, after so much disregard, was welcome. No matter how brief. Scott tumbled in with Allison and the others, all who wished him happy birthday. Stiles didn't lose hope. None of them would have gotten him as good a gift as what was currently sitting in the Jeep.

When the final bell rang, Stiles darted outside, eager to driver over to Scott's to give him his birthday present. When he got there, Melissa was just getting home from yet another sixteen hour shift. She looked tired. More tired than was right. She had probably been working as hard as Stiles to make sure that Scott got a present. Speaking of, Scott was nowhere to be found. When Stiles asked, Melissa said that he was out with friends. The lacrosse team had organized a party at Lydia's house. Though they were going to the movies first.

In that moment, Stiles broke. He could actually feel it. Something inside of him shattered. Maybe it was his heart. Maybe it was his soul. It didn't really matter. Nothing did anymore. After months of forgetfulness and neglect, this was it. The apex. Scott hadn't even bothered to invite Stiles. He had, for the last time, forgotten his best friend. He didn't bother hiding the tears that came. Stiles had earned them. Melissa, even in her state of exhaustion, asked what's wrong. Stiles told her it was nothing. He handed over the lacrosse stick, neatly wrapped and asked that she told Scott happy birthday. It didn't matter whether or not he knew it was from Stiles. He had already spent the money. Might as well.

After that, he peeled off, heading towards the edge of town, tears still streaming down his face. There wasn't anything left to say or to do. There was no relief from the sense of hurt, from the sense of betrayal. The feeling of loss. Stiles had felt it when his mother died. But the worst part, Scott was still alive and well. He just didn't care anymore. Stiles could live with it. He'd been through a lot in his life. This was just one more thing that he would deal with. He'd muddle through the nightmares, and the panic attacks. He'd hide everything from his father, who always had so much to do as the sheriff. It was what he had done for years. Why change things now.

There wasn't a particular destination in mind. Just so long as he got away from the world for a while. Away from the life that seemed to constantly want to drive him further to the edge. In the end, he chose the preserve. Technically, this area was closed to the public. But at this point, Stiles didn't care. About anything really. He just wanted to be alone. Not that he already wasn't. Here, he could cry and scream and no one would hear him. Just like always.

The hours passed, the sun settling below the horizon. Scott would be back from the movies, most likely at Lydia's house. They would drink expensive alcohol and listen to some obscure music that only Lydia knew about. She was funny that way. Jackson would be an asshole because of the drinking. Danny would reign him in. Allison would smile and laugh and just be altogether perfect. Scott would be Scott. Not drinking enough to get hammered, but just enough to feel a slight tingle at the back of skull. And throughout the night, not one of them would ever even consider Stiles' existence. He was alone. For the first time in months, he came to accept that. Accept that there really was no one in the world that he could call friend.

The last pang of sadness came crashing in. It wasn't the merciless numbness that he had come to know. It was bright, relentless anger. He cried and cried. Some tears came quietly. Others came loudly and without embarrassment. There was no longer any reason to hide his sorrow. The one friend he had was gone. Moved on towards bigger and better things. Better than Stiles anyway. That's the way it seemed to go. People left or were lost, leaving Stiles in their wake. It was just a fact of life. Stiles was temporary. No matter how hard he tried, he was just a small figure. Easily overlooked and easily forgotten. As he sat in the trees, listening to the wind, he wondered who he would lose next. Or if there was even anyone left for him lose. He only cried harder at the thought.

Sometime after the moon had risen in the sky, Stiles' phone chimed with a text message alert. It was Scott. The temptation to look at it was overwhelming. But Stiles resisted. Not even five minutes later, another text. Stiles ignored that one to. Then came another, and another. After the seventh, Scott decided to call. Stiles of course sent it to voicemail. There was nothing that Scott could say, nothing that he could do. Words were meaningless at this point. The damage was done. The tears were shed.

He didn't linger there. The preserve was always something out of horror story in Stiles' mind. At least, it was as night. Dense trees. Chilly, mist filled air, no matter what time of year it was. And there was always some kind of animal sounding of into the night. Stiles decided that he didn't want to meet any of them. Lord knows what lurked out here.

As he got up, he swore that he could see a pair of bright red eyes gazing out from the bushes in front of him. There was a sharp shiver that ran down his spine. He all but sprinted back to the Jeep, ensuring he didn't find out what was staring at him in the dark. The drive home was short and without event. This late, there was no traffic in Beacon Hills. And he maybe ran a few stop signs. There really wasn't any importance in following driving protocols at this point. He just wanted to be home and in his bed.

The sheriff's cruiser was sitting in the drive, surprisingly enough. These days, his father seemed to be at work more than he was at home. Mellissa wasn't the only single parent around. Add the fact that the man had an entire county to look after, and things never seemed to settle. Stiles did his best to understand. His father worked hard, for many reasons. Mainly, because of Stiles. There was plenty that required money. Food, power, water. Not to mention Stiles' medicine. There was a certain pang of guilt at that. Having severe ADD didn't come without drawbacks.

He had been taking the pills for some time. And to be honest, they didn't really do much but allow brief periods of focus. Which, as it turns out, wasn't all that helpful. Stiles always had a tendency to focus on the wrong things, and that of course, landed him in trouble. His father was used to wearing a permanently perturbed expression where he was concerned. It didn't make Stiles feel any better about himself. He tried his best to reign in his behavioral impulses. Most of the time, he succeeded. Lately, he had managed to stay under the radar. But that wasn't going to happen tonight. Judging by the light that was on in the living room, his father was up waiting for him.

Sure enough, once he was through the front door, Stiles was met with his father's furious expression. No doubt angry at his arriving home so late. There really wasn't any excuse that he could think of. No smooth lie that he could craft out of thin air. So, he told him the truth. About Scott, the gift, and where he was. At the mention of preserve, the sheriff turned a rather rare shade of red. Stiles hadn't seen it since the time he stole a bottle of Jack from the liquor cabinet. It was brief though. His father's anger subsided at the realization of what Scott had done. He was still royally pissed, and Stiles was grounded. But that the very least, the man understood. There wasn't much conversation after that. Stiles was grateful for it.

Once upstairs, he slipped out of his sweat sodden clothes and changed into a pair of sweats, collapsing into bed. Though, oddly, he didn't feel all that tired. Yes, the day had drained him. And by every meaning possible, he was exhausted. But his mind of still too loud, still too full of those terrible thoughts that refused to be silent. Out of curiosity, or maybe some sense of needing to punish himself further, Stiles read Scott's texts. They were all asking where he was and why he wasn't at the party. The tears peaked at the edges of his eyes again.

Scott had assumed that he had invited Stiles. That he had let him know about the party. Stiles' thought was correct when he listened to the voicemail Scott had left him. There was a surplus of background noise, music and drunken voices crashing together. Scott was yelling into the phone, asking why Stiles was missing out. From the way he slurred, it was obvious that he had drank much more than he was used to. The call ended with him saying he had to go. All he managed to glean from it was something to do with Allison and body shots.

Stiles threw his phone onto the bed, more angry than sad. Scott truly was an asshole. No doubt about it. Worse, he didn't even realize it. At least Jackson was honest about his douchiness. Scott just assumed he was still the friend that he had always been. Stiles knew different now. He laid his head down on his pillow, begging for sleep. A silent prayer for some meager form of reprieve. He realized it would never come. Soon, the sun licked at the horizon, the first edges of orange in the sky. He hadn't slept at all. But it didn't matter. Nothing did anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Stiles had to force himself out of bed. After the events of the previous day, coupled with the lack of sleep, he wasn't exactly feeling up to school at the moment. But there really wasn't any other option. He wasn't going to sacrifice his academic standing because he was feeling sorry for himself. Granted, he had every right to. Scott had completely abandoned him. Left him alone and without a shoulder to lean on. Even still, there were things that Stiles was determined to accomplish. People had always told him his ADD would keep him from succeeding in life. He was going to prove them wrong. And he didn't need Scott to do it.

His father had already left for the morning when he made his way downstairs. It was routine at this point. As the sheriff of Beacon County, there was little time that wasn't spent working. Stiles wished that wasn't the case. He longed for the days when his father was able to sit at home, watching baseball and eating pizza. It was yet another thing that he had lost over the years. Something that he doubted he would get back.

Shaking himself from the thought, he cracked eggs in a bowl and started on breakfast. Even in a state of depression, he wouldn't neglect the basic needs of his daily life. No matter the lack of appetite. He ate quickly, not wanting to be late. Plus, if he got there early, he could avoid seeing Scott. There was nothing left to say or do where he was concerned. No doubt that his former best friend would want some kind of an explanation as to why he wasn't at the party last night. Stiles didn't owe him that much. He didn't owe him anything. Not anymore.

Much to his dismay, Scott was in the parking lot when he arrived. Stiles didn't even look his way. He hurried inside, walking at a brisk pace. There was nothing more that he wanted than to be left alone right now. But Scott had always been quicker than him. Stiles had just made it past the first row of lockers when he felt a familiar hand wrap around his arm and turn him. Scott was standing there, floppy hair askew. He reeked of alcohol and other scents from last night's events. Stiles didn't want to imagine all of what he had done.

"Stiles, where were you last night. You missed a hell of party. Lydia is the actual best. I mean there was so much going on. And everybody got me some kick ass present. It was awesome."

"Glad you had fun. Maybe remember to invite me next time." Stiles said bitterly. He hadn't meant to say anything. He just wanted to leave and not talk to Scott for the foreseeable future. But standing there, enduring that sickening puppy dog smile, as if nothing was wrong, Stiles couldn't do it. He couldn't accept that Scott had disregarded him.

"Man, I thought you got the invite. Everybody did."

"Apparently, I'm not in the inclusive realm of everybody. Haven't been for some time."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Scott asked.

"January 1st."

Scott puzzles for a second before it hit's him. The teen's face goes stark white at the realization of the date. It was perhaps the most important one in Stiles' life. And Scott had completely forgotten it. It was one of the more painful things Scott had done. If not the most painful. And just like the other times, Scott had left him alone.

"Stiles, I'm so sorry. I completely forgot man. What with everything going on. With lacrosse, and Allison. I mean, there was just too much to process."

"It doesn't matter anymore Scott. You forgot. You fucking forgot the anniversary of my mom's death. A day we've spent together for seven years. And you left me alone to cry at her grave, wondering what the hell happened to my best friend"

"Stiles, man, I'm still your friend." Scott said with a broken voice.

"Friends don't forget each other because of popularity and girlfriends. I didn't forget your birthday. I didn't forget that you needed a new lacrosse stick. Which I payed for myself, after hours of tutoring other people. But like I said, it doesn't matter. You can go shove it up your ass for all I care."

Stiles was fighting back tears at this point. It was the worst kind. Tears of sadness were one thing. But crying because you were pissed off was another. It hurt in a different kind of way. Where you were so full of anger that everything came crashing in at once and the only thing you could do was stand there and hope the shaking would stop. Stiles wouldn't allow Scott to make him feel that way. Not anymore. He moved to walk away when he spotted Jackson, Lydia, and Allison approaching. That only made him want to leave faster. Then of course, Jackson had to go an open his mouth.

"What's with you Stilinski? Someone piss in your cereal?"

"For once in your life Jackson, I'd recommend keeping quiet. I'm so not in the mood for your shit today." Stiles warned.

"If you actually think I'm scared of your geeky ass, you've got another thing coming. I mean come on, you're pathetic. Useless on the field, clinging to Scott like a lost puppy. As if it's gonna make any difference. You're nothing Stilinski. Always have been, always will-"

Stiles didn't let Jackson finish ripping into him. His fist connected with the jock's face, which proceeded to crunch rather loudly. Jackson fell to the floor, clinging to his nose. Which was now spurting blood. Lydia moved back while Allison clung to Scott. For the first time in his life, someone was afraid of him.

"You're a next level of asshole and I'm done putting up with you. You wanna talk about pathetic? How sad is it that you have everything you could ever want, and you're still not happy. You have two parents that love you, but you can't accept that because you're adopted."

Jackson lunged at Stiles in a fury. For anyone else, this would've presented a problem. But Stiles was the son of the Sheriff. He had spent entire summers taking self-defense courses. It was easy to deflect Jackson's tackle, sending him head first into the lockers. His head bounced off with a metallic clang, and Jackson went right back to the ground. He was too dazed to try and move again. Lydia was still quivering slightly when Stiles approached her. Out of impulse, he grabbed her by the wrist and kissed her. It was brief and somewhat messy. Her lips were warm and tasted like strawberries. He moved away, and took in her shocked expression. Stiles had wanted to kiss her for the longest time. Just not in that way. But he knew he never would have what he wanted.

"I'm sorry. I know that wasn't right. I've just wanted to do that for a while. I know I don't exist to you. I'm not athletic, or good looking, or anything that you would find attractive in a guy. But I know you Lydia. You're a lot more than just a pretty face. You're the smartest person in this school and you can do a lot better than Jackson."

Next, he moved towards Allison. They had never really talked. She was a sweet girl who made friends with everybody. The type of person who could never make an enemy or be disliked. Try as he might, Stiles couldn't make himself hate her.

"I just want you to know that the reason I'm mad at Scott has nothing to do with you. He fucked up. You did nothing. I wish you all the happiness in the world. Take care of him for me."

With that, Stiles turned and walked away. Jackson was still on the floor. Lydia seemed to fighting off tears of some sort. Stiles didn't know why. But even still, she looked beautiful while crying. Scott called out, asking for Stiles to wait. He didn't. There had been enough times when Stiles waited on Scott. Now, there wasn't going to be anymore. No matter how alone he felt. And as he walked into his first class, it hit him. He had been alone for a while. It had just taken him this long to accept it. To let one last fit of turbulent sadness and anger wash over him. It was done. And there was no going back. Not that there was anything to go back to.

As expected, there were some consequences to punching Jackson in the face. Namely, the principal gave him a week's worth of detention. And called his father, who would be having a long talk with Stiles when he got home. Lastly, Jackson father, Andrew, was also called. Stiles didn't even bother to explain to the man why he did it. Nothing against Andrew. He was a delightful man. Stiles just didn't want to explain to him how much of a jackass his son was. And that was only the beginning. For the most part, Stiles' life was relatively low key in terms of high school. People really didn't pay attention to him. It was a simple truth. That was turned on its head rather promptly.

Now, when he walked down the halls, people moved out of his way. The other students whispered. Some made nasty comments. Others just stared at him with stunned silence. It was uncomfortable, all the attention. He was used to being unnoticed. Someone who just took as little space as possible. That wasn't the case anymore. At one point, he was ready to scream. There was a girl trying to snap a picture of him. For what reason, he didn't know. But Stiles was definitely not about to be the butt of anyone's joke.

Things got better during lunch. As it had been for weeks, no one sat near him. He was able to eat in relative peace. Though, Scott did gaze at him longingly. As if he missed him. Too bad Stiles had already burned that bridge. Allison and Lydia were talking to each other in hushed tones. Jackson was nursing his bruised face. There was a certain satisfaction in knowing that he had been the one to cause that kind of damage. Despite his awkward meekness, Stiles was actually rather brutal when pushed. Scott had mentioned it several times when they were still actually friends. Stiles had never really thought anything of it.

He was halfway done when Erica plopped down with Isaac in front of him. Stiles had been tutoring them for weeks. He enjoyed their company and the conversation that came with it. But, he never really thought of them as friends. Isaac was generally too timid to speak his mind for fear of upsetting someone. He also kept his eyes downcast, never looking someone in the face. Erica never really had anything to say either. There wasn't much for her to talk about as far as Stiles could tell. But when she did, he always made sure to pay attention and to let her know that she was heard. The same with Isaac. Stiles could tell that the two of them were used to be ignored or forgotten. A feeling he knew all too well.

It seemed today that the both of them had issues with saying what was on their minds. Stiles could always tell when they were afraid to say something. He never could figure out the exact reason behind their hesitations.

"You guys okay?"

"Better than Jackson's face right about now." Stiles resisted the urge to smile at her words. Jackson had never been overtly cruel towards Erica. But he had never been kind to her either. He ignored her existence much like everyone else in the school. To them, she was just someone who happened to exist. Little more than that. It was cruel really. She suffered, rather harshly, compared to most teenagers. Epilepsy was a serious condition, and Erica's was no exception. Stiles still remembered the first time she had a seizure. How terrified he was, how horrible it was to see someone's body go through that. He'd seen it before. Every time he looked at Erica, dark memories dredged towards the surface, threatening to drown him.

"The asshole had it coming, for a while I might add."

There was no argument on their part. To people like Erica and Isaac, Jackson was everything they envied and hated. Envied because of status and friends. Hated for his arrogance and sense of entitlement. They would never have something like that whilst in high school. It was some unreachable thing, forever teasing the edges of their fingertips. It was a sucky reality to live with. That one was so easily disregarded by so many people. Isaac was much like Erica. His father worked in the local graveyard. Kids always said nasty things about him. Usually some shitty joke involving necrophilia or sneaking in the funeral home to cut up the dead. Teenagers were assholes, no doubt about it.

"So, are we on for out tutoring session after school?" Stiles asked. He was hoping that they looked forward to their study time. While the three of them weren't exactly friends, it did offer them some form of companionship. If only briefly. Erica was in, and ready, but wanted to do it tomorrow. She had a doctor's appointment today. Isaac just stared at the table, trying not to make eye contact.

"Isaac, what's wrong?" Stiles asked.

"I can't pay you." Stiles tensed at that. He didn't charge much. Ten dollars a study session, fifty for a full week. Weekends were free since he really didn't do anything. It never occurred to him that some people might not have been able to pay. As far as he was aware, Erica's family paid for hers. He had no idea where Isaac's payments came from.

"That's okay. I just needed the money to fix my Jeep a little. Now that it's done, I really don't need to charge anymore." Isaac perked up at that. Stiles felt a sense of relief. He always got the feeling that something was wrong with Isaac. The way he seemed to slouch all the time, the quietness, and above all, the fear of upsetting someone.

"You mean you're still paying to keep that hunk of junk running." Erica said interrupting his thoughts.

"Blasphemy, I say! Hare dare you insult my baby. We're in it till the end. Anyways, why don't I come to yours after school, we can study there."

Isaac nodded a non-verbal confirmation. He seemed to relax at the thought of being able to study. There was no denying that he was smart, he just needed a little guidance in some areas. The rest of lunch passed without comment, the three of them enjoying the simple pleasure of company. It was nice. The ease of it. That is, until Stiles realized that he still had to attend chemistry. Mr. Harris would no doubt be a raging douche, as always. After Jackson, he really wasn't in the mood for it.

The man was ex-military, a hard ass, with a sprinkle of an authoritarian complex. He loved the idea of lording himself over his students. He was even dressed like an asshole. Seriously, the man dressed in suits. There really was no helping him. When he entered, there was a still silence. People never chatted or goofed around in this class. Harris had a knack for killing teenage optimism. But Stiles, ever the eternal optimist, was determined to not let this day get any worse. That idea was dead within ten minutes. Harris sprung a pop quiz over work that hadn't been covered in the class yet. None of the formulas had been reviewed. Nothing had been explained. Except, Stiles had read ahead, like always. He never was satisfied with just taking things slowly. Erica and Isaac, as his students, also endured extra course work. They would've been prepared. Maybe not to the extent that Stiles was, but they would receive a passing grade.

Harris had that slap worthy smile across his face as he looked at his class struggling to grasp the concept. Stiles penciled in the multiple choice answers with ease. The questions for balancing formulas were only slightly more difficult. He handed in his paper, blank faced. Harris had a habit of grading the papers right there, just to let you know. The man was under the assumption that Stiles would fail, and go slinking back to his desk. That assumption was quickly and mercilessly shattered. Harris continued checking off instead of circling red. Except for one question were Stiles forgot to carry the three. He missed one question. The man handed his paper back, stern faced and obviously pissed. Erica and Isaac did the same. The rest of the class drudged through it. A few were even on the verge of tears. Stiles just sat back, smiling to himself.

At the end of class, he got up to leave when Harris called him over. Of course, him passing the quiz wouldn't be the end of it. It just had to go from there. The man was an ass, bound and determined to always be right, to always have the last laugh.

"I don't appreciate thievery, ."

"Excuse me?"

"You obviously stole the answers to that quiz. It was intended to test your adaptation and knowledge of advanced coursework. Now, unless you're hiding a few IQ points in there, you took the answers and I will alert the principal, who will punish you accordingly." Harris threatened.

"Three things. One, you just admitted to making a test that no one could pass under normal circumstances. Two, there's no way I could have taken answers to a test I had no idea about. And three, I'm sure the principal would love to hear this conversation. About how you designed a test that could only result in failure."

"My word against yours, ."

"Correct."

Stiles pulled his cellphone from his pocket, and played back the entirety of the conversation. Harris' eyes blew wide. He had recorded the entire thing. It became a habit in freshman bio when Harris was being a particular ass, going on about how stupid freshman tended to be. At the time, Stiles was too scared to go anywhere with it. But now, he was fed up with the man's bullshit. He wanted to play this game, well, Stiles could always play it better.

"There's loads more where that came from. With copies made and stored on my personal computer. So even if you take my phone, I still have plenty to take to the administration. At the very least, you'll be suspended. At worst, you'll lose your job. The local paper will get some exciting story about a teacher abusing their position. And, you'll never find a respectable teaching job again."

Harris didn't have any snide remarks after that. Stiles left with a smile, getting ready to head to Isaac's for their session. It was close by, only a few minutes' drive. Isaac would've already left on his bike. Probably there already. The boy rode the thing like a bat out of hell. As if he always had to be home on time. For some reason or the other. As far as Stiles could surmise, it was because he had a shift working in the local cemetery. Probably wanted to get the study session done early so he could get to work. He arrived at the reasonably sized house, seeing Isaac's bike in the driveway. He grabbed his textbooks from the back, heading towards the front door. Knocking three times, the person who answered it wasn't who he was expecting.

was much like Stiles' own father. Average height with a slightly stocky build. Gray hairs peaking in through the dirty blonde. Wrinkles at the edges of his eyes. Except, his face was much more unkind than Stiles' father. He always seemed to be pissed about something. As if anger was always simmering below the surface.

"What do you want?" the man asked with a gruff.

"I'm Stiles. I'm here to tutor Isaac for today."

"My son doesn't need a tutor. He just needs to pull his head out of his ass."

Stiles didn't get a chance to respond, as he was cut off by a muffled scream. It sent a shiver down his spine. He knew straight away, something wasn't right.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Just the tv turned up to…"

Stiles didn't give the man a chance to finish. He socked him square in the groin. hunched over in pain, stepping slightly forward. Stiles grabbed onto the man's shirt, throwing him into the ground. Running inside, he slammed the door behind him, locking it. That would buy him a few minutes, at best. Stiles tore through the house, screaming for Isaac. His answer was another muffled scream coming from the basement. Stiles bolted down the stairs three at a time. It didn't take long to find the source of the scream. It was coming from inside a pad locked freezer. had locked Isaac inside of it.

Not hesitating, Stiles took out his phone and dialed his father. Thankfully, he answered after the third ring. He didn't giving his father time to explain, he shouted for him to send squad cars to the address, stating something about a domestic assault. His father didn't have time to comment before Stiles hung up. He started to panic, wondering what to do. How long could a person survive in a locked freezer before they suffocated? Stiles guessed that it wasn't very long. He found a hammer rather quickly. He bashed the lock with all the panicked fury he could muster. It took seven hits, but the thing gave way, allowing Isaac to burst free.

It was a terrible sight. He was only in there for what was probably minutes. But he had already scratched his fingers along the top of the freezer to the point of bleeding. He was covered in a sheen of sweat, pale as a sheet. Isaac was in full shock, unable to breathe or speak. Stiles grabbed him, holding onto the other boy's arms to prevent him from hurting himself. Isaac thrashed and screamed, and Stiles let him. It was about all they could do. He could hear pounding on the front door. was trying to get back inside. Stiles could only hope the police would get there first.


	3. Chapter 3

As it turned out, the police did get there before was able to breakdown the door and enter the house. Isaac was still in full shock, and Stiles wasn't far behind him. Adrenalin coursed through him like a wave, smothering every rational thought. Breathing became difficult. The world seemed to spin and turn and pulse. It made it very difficult to register his father's voice. It was the aching familiarity that brought him out of it. In a world where everything was turning backwards and upside down, something to latch onto was a comfort.

Stiles found himself wrapped in a trauma blanket, looked over by EMTs for damage. It didn't take them long to realize that there was nothing to find. Nothing to treat. If anything, he had done more damage to Isaac's dad. It was something that Stiles only just now realized. He had assaulted someone. Broken into their home. Granted, it was to save someone who had been viciously locked into a near air tight box. But still, he had committed several felony crimes. He had the distinct feeling that not even his sheriff father could make that one go away. All he could do was wait. Wait for some nameless deputy to come and take him to the station in cuffs. Placed in a holding cell, and await to be processed. There was nothing that he could do or say to get out of this one. Stiles prided himself on the ability to craft a lie. He'd been deceiving his father for years. But there was nothing to do this time.

As it turned out, the man who came for Stiles was one he knew. Jordan. A relatively new addition. He was young and kind faced. A sunny disposition for someone who had seen so much. Stiles always checked out his father's new deputies. Jordan had served in Afghanistan. His job was to diffuse IEDs. Not exactly a job with a solid retirement plan. Somehow, despite the odds, Jordan made it back home. Unscathed, ready to continue to serve his country. Only this time, the position was a little less hazardous. If by a small margin.

He took Stiles by the hand, and escorted him to squad car. There were no handcuffs. There was no rendering of rights. Only that he was sat, as gently as possible, into the front seat. Jordan drove without comment. Stiles mirrored his stony silence. There wasn't much to say. An innocent boy was in the hospital, recovering from what was most likely years of hardship. Stiles had seen the inside of that freezer. It wasn't the first time Isaac had been locked in there. But now, it was going to be the last. He didn't know what to think. Isaac always seemed off. Different in a not so normal way. Stiles was observant, attentive. He should've seen the signs. There were manuals on this stuff, signals to look out for. He knew them all by heart. Every last one. His father had always brought them home. And Stiles, ever the curious child, had read them all. Despite that, he had entirely missed that Isaac was being so horrendously abused.

When they pulled into the house, Stiles felt like he had been run over with a steamroller. The shock and the adrenaline had worn off. Every muscle screamed in exhaustion. His eyes felt heavy. Jordan all but carried him into the house. Upstairs, in his bed, he found no comfort. It was a restless kind of sleep. The kind that was had when there was too much on the mind. Too much to think about and too much to do. But for now, he could do nothing. And that was the worst of it. He had not been able to do anything. And he was unable to do anything now. He felt powerless and weary. As if all the effort in the world would yield no result. It was a hard and bitter pill to swallow. But Stiles did. The morning would bring new things. Hopefully, for once, some of them would be good.

Sleep, as it turns out, wasn't as restful as people claimed it to be. Stiles woke sore, an ache in every muscle. The entirety of his body screamed in protest to even the smallest of movements. Apparently, going into shock was more than just heavy breathing and rapid pulse rates. Stiles felt drained and weary. Sleep had done nothing to help him. In fact, he felt more tired than when he went to bed. Deciding a shower would was best, he headed to the bathroom. The water rinsed away the tension, allowing him to relax. If only slightly. A small, barely existing sense of ease returned to him. For the moment, things were okay. Things were alright. He savored it like the last drop of a drink in summer. He knew that come later in the day, things weren't going to be alright. There was a lot to answer for. He just didn't know how to do it.

Luck, however, was on his side. His father had saw fit to have the Jeep towed to the house. The keys were in a dish, by the front door. Same as always. There was also a note telling him to get to the hospital after he was awake. Stiles couldn't imagine why. He thought for sure that he would've been ordered to the station, demanded by his father to answer questions. Not one to press his good fortune, Stiles headed towards Beacon Memorial.

The drive there was, in a word, slow. For the first time in his life, Stiles obeyed traffic law to the letter. Going exactly the speed limit. Stopping at every red light, and at every stop sign. Had any of the deputies been on traffic duty, they would've thought someone had stolen the Jeep. Stiles remained stone faced the entire time. He didn't even feel like turning on the radio. It was an odd sort of tension. Nervousness. Anxiety. There were plenty of words for it. Stiles had the worst habit of overthinking things. Working himself into a panic. It was a trait he got from his mother. She was always worrying about something. And that something usually ended up not being very much at all. But in this case, there was something to worry about. He didn't know exactly what it was, but he wasn't willing to bet that it was anything good.

Pulling into the guest parking lot, Stiles hopped out, trotting inside. Mellissa, bless her heart, was there. At the front desk, she manned the nursing station, giving out direction with skilled precision. It was always a wonder to Stiles how she could work so much, but never be appropriately appreciated. Half the doctors in the hospital would lose their heads if not for her. That was a fact. Even the other nurses would turn to her for guidance. She was a veteran in the field. In her own way. There was no problem she couldn't solve. No issue she couldn't handle. Stiles admired her for that. In many ways, she was like a second mother. Granted, she could never be the same as his. But it was a strange kind of comfort. Knowing that someone cared. Even if it never felt quite the same.

She smiled at him as he approached. A sense of relief spreading across her tired face. No doubt due to the long hours she'd come accustomed to working. Stepping out from behind the desk, Mellissa wrapped him in a bone crushing hug. She was famous for doing that. After which, she cuffed him upside the head. Next came one of her more famous lectures. Stiles hadn't one in a while. He guessed he was due for one sometime. After the thorough chewing out, she directed him to one of the conference rooms. Inside, his dad sat with a young dark haired woman. She was in her late twenties. She smiled gently at Stiles. His dad just stood in the corner, looking all sheriff like.

"I'm about to be arrested aren't I?"

"The county prosecutor normally would jump at the chance to convict someone of assault as well as B&E. But seeing as your actions brought a more serious case to light, he's gonna overlook it. This time." His dad said.

Stiles breathed a sigh of relief and took a seat. The woman was still smiling. Her face was angelic and forgettable in the same moment. The kind of face that spoke that she was a friend to everyone. Stiles was normally bad with new people. But he felt at ease with her. For the moment anyway.

"Now that we've cleared that. I need you to understand what happens next." his dad said.

"And that is?"

"After a medical exam, it's been determined that Isaac has suffered systematic abuse for several years. X-rays showed healed fractures. His nails have regrown at least twice from the being ripped from scratching the inside of that freezer. As such, with no living relatives within the area, he's going into the foster system."

No. Fuck no. That wasn't going to happen. Stiles knew how overloaded the California system was. Too many times kids slipped through the cracks, landing into shitty homes. Sometimes, with worse people than their parents. Isaac was too old. He would bounce around homes for just under a year. The families would get the monthly check. Then, when he turned eighteen, he'd be kicked out onto the street. Nowhere to go. It wasn't fair to him. He deserved a shot at a good home, where he could stay in one place. He deserved to finish school in Beacon Hills where he had all his credits.

"He can stay with us. Come on dad, you're the sheriff. There isn't a single person who would object to it. Isaac can't be sent off to some foster family sixty miles away. He needs stability. This would be the worst thing for him."

"Which is why this lovely young woman is here. Stiles, this is Laura Hale."

That was a surprise. Stiles remembered the Hales in a vague sort of way. Some years ago, there was a fire. Most of them died. The only surviving members were Laura, Derek, and Cora. At the time, Laura had just turned nineteen. Derek was sixteen. Cora was only eleven at the time. Stiles recalled his father pouring over the reports for several weeks. An investigation was called for, after which the cause of blaze that claimed over a dozen lives was determined to be accidental. Laura and her siblings left shortly after that. Stiles didn't even know they were back in town. And he usually prided himself on knowing everything that happened in Beacon Hills. His father was the sheriff after all. It gave him access to all sorts of information. Laura would've been in her late twenties by now. She looked good. Stiles remembered the first and only time he saw her.

It had been right after news of the fire broke. Stiles was at the station, waiting for his dad to get off of work. When all of a sudden, three screaming kids came rushing in, two of them crying loudly. Laura was barely restraining her tears as she tried desperately to calm Derek and Cora. Stiles was about Cora's age at the time. But he remembers the smell of ash and fire that lingered on their clothes. His dad wasn't sheriff at the time. He was just a deputy. The other members of the station rallied behind him, covering the three of them in police jackets. It didn't do much good. Derek was the worst off. He was shaking with unrestrained sadness. His eyes seemed to flicker some kind of blue. Hands balled into fists so tight that his knuckles were turning white.

He didn't see any of them after that. Now, it seems they were back. For what reason, Stiles didn't know. Perhaps Laura had gone to college to be a social worker or something. For a woman who'd lost her family, then taken care of the remainder for the last seven years, she was astonishingly put together. Stiles would've expected some kind of hard edge to a person who'd gone through all that. But Laura was gentle and serene. A calm in the storm. Stiles like her on principal. He couldn't exactly explain why.

"And how is she here to help?" Stiles asked.

"Laura is a registered foster parent in Beacon County. She and her family live right here in Beacon Hills. Just ten minutes outside of town." his father answered.

That was good. At least, Stiles was trying to find some good in this situation. If Laura was registered, that means she passed all the background checks, took the state required courses. All that jazz. And no doubt his father would've done his own digging. If he trusted her, then that meant Stiles could as well. He may not have known her, but there was very little that Stiles couldn't find out for himself. If he ever had any suspicions, he'd be quick about discovering the truth.

"Where exactly do you live?" Stiles asked.

"I had my family's old house rebuilt. My husband works from home to take care of our son. It actually works out fairly well. Derek, my brother, will be attending college, and Cora will finish her senior year at Beacon Hills High School."

"Seems like a lot to handle. You've got your kid, as well as Cora. Now, you'd be taking on Isaac." Stiles said flatly. His father gave him razor edged look. It was basically a silent way of telling him to shut the hell up. But Stiles was never on to listen to anyone. If Laura was going to be Isaac's foster mother, she needed to make sure that she could actually handle the job.

"I understand your concern. But my hours are nine to five. A day job in a law firm. I will be home every night. The only reason my husband stays home is because of how protective we are of our son. I'm not really the type to trust nannies. No matter how well they are recommended."

Stiles understood that much. His mother never hired a nanny. Ever. It was either her, his father, or some close family friend. Never from an agency, or some random teenager looking for pocket change. It was one of the things that he had loved about her. That she always thought of his comfort, never wanting to leave him with a virtual stranger. He was liking Laura more and more.

"When will Isaac move in with them?"

"As soon as the doctors clear him for discharge. Which should be in a few hours. I've already sent a deputy to gather his things." his father said.

"I want to see him." Stiles commented. Despite the fact that he and Isaac weren't really friends, despite the certain distance that was between them. Stiles felt guilty. Guilty for not recognizing the abuse that Isaac had been enduring. The pain that he had suffered. The life he had been forced to hide. It didn't make sense when one thought about it. But Stiles rarely listened to sense or reason. Better not to start now.

His father gave him Isaac's room number, and told Stiles to head home afterwards. He nodded without comment and left. Laura was still smiling as he exited. The hallways were alive with activity. Beacon Memorial was the largest hospital in Beacon County. There was always an influx of patients. Stiles ducked out of the way of nurses and doctors alike, until finally, he found Isaac's room. He was asleep when he entered. It was the most relaxed Stiles had ever seen him. Isaac always seemed to be on edge, teetering on the verge of a breakdown. Now, he was in blissful sleep. Looking at the cocktail of medicines that were being administered, Stiles understood why. After being rescued from the freezer, Isaac was in a state of panic and shock. The hospital had given him anti-anxiety meds, as well as a sleep aid. He'd probably be out for the rest of the afternoon. Stiles knew what that kind of exhaustion felt like. Isaac had earned a reprieve from his shitty life. At least for today. Laura would be taking him away from the house in which he was tortured. To a new family, one that would give him the love and comfort he deserved.

Stiles didn't try to wake him. Instead, he sat down and rested his hand inside of Isaac's. It was a small gesture, one of assurance. More to himself than to Isaac. He was safe. He was alive. And everything was going to be alright. Even if Stiles didn't feel the same for himself. As it turns out, life had another disruption for him. The door opened revealing a panicked, sweat sheened Scott. Stiles took one look at him before bolting from the chair and shoving his former friend outside.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Stiles asked in a vicious tone.

"I called your dad to see where you were. He said you were at the hospital. I thought…..something happened."

"Something did happen, just not to me."

"He's on the team, isn't he?" Scott asked.

"His name is Isaac. And yes. He's been on the team as long as we have. As someone who will probably be named co-captain, you should know this."

Scott didn't say anything. He simply stood there, silent and guilt ridden. Stiles still felt anger when he looked at him. He wasn't exactly sure why his former friend was here. It didn't really matter. The damage had been done. The relevance of his presence was non-existent.

"You're still here." Stiles said.

"I just want to make things right, Stiles."

"Make it right? Please explain how you intend to do that. I'm so interested to find out. You've ignored me for over a year. Every holiday. Every weekend. There was always some excuse. At first, I was happy for you. You made first line, found a girlfriend. But after a while, it got old Scott. We're juniors, on the verge of being seniors. And in that time, you've never once invited me to anything. It was so easy to forget me, the one person, the one friend who had been there for you. So please, try your best. Just know that I don't owe you a damn thing. Not anymore."

Scott averted his gaze and stared at the ground, ridden with shame. Stiles found a certain sense of satisfaction in that. To say the least. He wasn't going to pull his punches, not anymore. There really wasn't a kind word left to be said. Not where he was concerned. If Scott wanted things to change, if he wanted to apologize, he was going to have to earn it.

"Allison is having a party this weekend. You should come. Meet her when you're not punching someone in the face."

"And is Allison okay with that?" Stiles asked.

"She might be just a little scared of you. But she doesn't dislike you. Come, and I'll prove that I can be your friend."

Stiles considered it. The idea of attending his first actual high school party. He'd always heard about them. The fun, the raging, the drinking. It would be an experience, at the very least. But if Scott wanted to prove himself, prove that he could be a friend. Then there was something he could do. And Stiles was going to make sure he'd do it.

"I'm bringing Isaac and Erica. They're coming with me, and you're going to ensure that none of your asshole friends, including Jackson, give them any shit for it. Understood?"

Scott nodded before walking away. It seemed he'd had enough of Stiles' anger for one day. If the party went south, there'd be plenty more. Stiles was giving him a chance, a shot at redemption. It was in Scott's best interest to make the best of it. After his almost friend had left, Stiles made his way back into the room, resuming his seat by Isaac's side. He resolved himself to stay there until the boy woke. Some part of him wanted to be the person that broke the news. It only seemed right. For all the world, Stiles was the closest thing Isaac had to a friend. And he was going to prove it.


	4. Chapter 4

Isaac, surprisingly enough, woke just a short two hours later. Stiles had resorted to reading one of the awful books that the hospital had provided. When the boy woke, he was confused and a little bit frightened. Stiles didn't blame him. He had been through a lot. Things got a little bit better when the social worker came in with Laura. They explained that his father had been arrested and was being held on charges of abuse, assault, and endangerment of a minor. All on all, there wasn't any way he was getting out of holding. The man didn't have enough money to bail himself out. And no respectable bondsman would ever allow him to walk out. Beacon Hills was just that kind of place.

After the doctor came in and assessed Isaac's condition, Laura was given the discharge forms. Judge Dathers, the local judge for children's court, had signed an overnight confirmation allowing Laura to take custody of Isaac. Stiles made a mental note to send the woman a gift basket. She always was his favorite. Isaac was dressed and ready to leave within the hour. He left with Laura, filing into a sleek newer model Camaro. Stiles followed them from the hospital. He followed them out of town on the road that led towards the preserve. It seems that Laura's home was nestled in the trees. Not a bad thing, just not what Stiles had expected.

They followed the road for about five minutes before coming upon a rather large, mansion like house. It had to have had an easy seven rooms. At least. Stiles could only imagine what the inside would look like. He pulled in beside Laura, leaving room for himself to leave when the time came. There were several other cars in the driveway. Stiles guessed that they belonged to Laura's husband and brother. They were most likely inside.

Isaac exited the Camaro. He was visibly tense and was all but radiating nervousness. Laura gave him a small, reassuring smile as she led him inside. Stiles was right behind her. The interior of the house was magnificent. The foyer was solid wooden floors, a chandelier gleaming brightly overhead. Walls of warm browns and vanilla complimented the ensemble. Isaac was just as dumbfounded as Stiles. Compared to the hell that he had been trapped in, this was a virtual paradise.

"Well, this is us. Plenty of rooms to choose from. I'd go with the third on the left after you go up the stairs. It's the only one with an adjoining bathroom. It would allow for a certain sense of privacy."

Stiles could tell that Laura was genuinely trying to be kind. Isaac had been transplanted into an entirely new environment. Not only that, the people that he was going to be living with were complete strangers. Couple that with years of systematic abuse, and it was a recipe for disaster. Laura, in her own small way, was trying to ensure his comfort. Trying to ease the blow that this was real and that it was happening. Stiles decided then and there that this was the best place for Isaac. He was with someone that legitimately cared for his wellbeing. Laura had, on short notice, dropped her day and ensured that Isaac wouldn't have been thrown into a random home. That, and she let Stiles accompany them to the house allowing him to assuage his concerns.

"What exactly do you do?" Stiles asked a little shell shocked.

"I'm a top lawyer at the firm I work for. Not just a desk lackey. My husband James is an IT consultant to a tech firm based in LA. He's basically on the phone or on Skype all day. A difficult task considering he has Tristan to look after."

"That your son?"

"He just turned three. He'll be excited to have a big brother." Laura said smiling at Isaac.

Isaac blushed and curled into himself. The talk of brothers was a sore subject for him. His had been a marine overseas on duty. Stiles remembered when he had come back. Only it had been in a casket. Camden had been shot in a firefight. According to what he heard, he had been protecting a group children that had been caught in the crossfire. He was awarded a purple heart and silver star. Isaac didn't speak for a week afterwards. Not that he spoke much at all before. But after that, Stiles seemed to recall that he became more reclusive than before. Now, he was going to get to play brother to someone who needed it. Stiles knew it was going to be a good thing. Isaac was going to be in an environment where he could be loved, and in turn, love someone else. It was the first step in the process of healing.

"Well, I need to go find my hubby. Isaac, feel free to take your things upstairs and place them in any of the available rooms. Stiles, help yourself to whatever is in the kitchen. I'll find everyone so you can meet them."

Laura walked off towards the back of the house, her heels clicking against the fine wooden floors. Isaac was cemented in place, obviously too afraid to move. Stiles just gave him a smile and jerked his head towards the upstairs. The boy got the message and took his bags upstairs. When he had gone in the room of choosing, Stiles moved towards what looked like the kitchen. It was all polished marble countertops and gleaming steel appliances. Seriously, these people were loaded. Isaac was going to do just fine here.

The fridge was stocked full of a variety of foods. Much to his surprise, there wasn't one trace of processed foods. The Hales were apparently health freaks. Not that merited any concern. Just that Isaac might have a hard time climbing aboard the kale bandwagon. He laughed at his own joke whilst grabbing a bottle of water. The day had left him little time to eat or drink anything. There was scratchiness in the back of his throat that he had just noticed. The water helped, but his stomach was growling for actual food. Even though Laura had said to help himself, Stiles didn't want to impose. He had all but strong armed her into letting him come here to Isaac settle in. Instead, he sat down on a stool by one of the counters, waiting for when Laura would come back.

It wasn't a rather long sit. Stiles heard a sniffling, and a slight whimper. Like that of a child. Exiting the kitchen, he found said child just outside. He was chubby cheeked and crying ever so slightly. He was rubbing a tiny hand across his face. He couldn't help it. Kids always were a weak spot for him. Squatting down, he made himself eye level with the boy.

"Hey, you must be Tristan, that right?"

"Yef." the boy answered. He apparently hadn't grasped the concept of the letter s, as of yet.

"Hey Tristan, I'm Stiles. Can you tell me what's wrong?"

"Toof hurt. Toof hurt bad."

The boy opened his mouth and Stiles could see that one of his baby teeth was poking through. That would explain it. To an adult, it would've been a minor annoyance. To a three year old, any pain was worth crying over. He knew just what to do.

"Hey buddy, don't cry. Let's go into the kitchen and I'll help you."

Tristan made grabby hands at Stiles. It was the three year old way of asking to be picked up. Stiles obliged and hefted the boy into his arms. He was a lot heavier than he looked. Tristan settled ever so slightly. The boy buried his face into Stiles' neck and sniffled slightly. Well, it was progress. At least he had stopped crying. Child in hand, Stiles went back towards the fridge and pushed the ice dispenser on the freezer section. Catching a piece of ice was a little difficult seeing as he was holding a three year old. But he managed to grab a piece. As gently as possible, he rubbed the ice over Tristan's gums. The effect was instant. The boy responded by sucking on the ice with fervor. It was an old trick Stiles' own mother had used on him many a times. It reduced the swelling around the emerging tooth, and allowed for a brief respite from the pain. It would wear off in thirty minutes or so. But it would be long enough for Laura to find some children's Tylenol.

Tristan fell asleep after only a few minutes, leaving Stiles with an armful of slumbering toddler. He was only mildly annoyed. In the back of his mind, he's always wondered what it was like to have siblings. His parents never talked about having another child. And after his mother's death, his father was a different man. It had been nearly seven years, and he still wore his wedding band. There wasn't a day he left the house without it. Stiles was never angry at him for it. He still kept all of his mother's clothes. All of her jewelry. There were plenty of things left behind that held the memory of her. Things that kept him from completely moving on. He knew it wasn't healthy. That he should relinquish his hold on them. But it was a lot easier said than done. His mother had been his light. His joy. His everything.

Tristan shuffled in his sleep, disturbing Stiles from his thoughts. The boy was sound asleep, not even concerned that he had done so in the arms of a complete stranger. Speaking of, a stranger had walked into the kitchen. Stiles hadn't heard him at all. He was Stiles' height, only with about three times the muscle. The man had to be in his mid-twenties, raven black hair, and a jawline that was carved by angels. He would've been beautiful had his features not been twisted in anger. Nostrils flared, hazel green eyes blow wide. It was quite clear that he was ten different levels of pissed.

"Who are you!?" the man asked with a raised voice. Tristan moved ever so slightly at the sudden noise. Stiles rocked him a little while trying to find a way to answer the man.

"Um, hi. Sorry. I'm Stiles, Isaac's friend. The kid that Laura was bringing here. She said to help myself to anything in the kitchen."

"I don't think she was talking about her son. Who also happens to be my nephew."

"Yeah, this does look a bit…odd. Tristen was crying about his tooth. So I gave him some ice to suck on. It worked and he kind of passed out in my arms. Please don't kill me."

The man's anger didn't relent. If anything, it grew stronger. Stiles could swear his saw his eyes tinge red for the briefest of seconds. Stiles was relatively sure that the man wouldn't try to harm him while he was holding Tristan. But judging by the way he was shaking, it was a solid idea. If anything he looked like he was three seconds away from snatching Tristan out of his hands just so he could punch him in the face. Thankfully, help came swiftly in the form of Laura. She was dressed in a loose fitting t-shirt and bicycle shorts. It was odd compared to the business attire she had been wearing hours earlier. At this point, he didn't care what she was wearing. So long as she saved him from the enraged man in front him.

"Derek, what's wrong?"

So this was Laura's brother. He was older than Stiles expected, and certainly as beautiful as she was. If he wasn't so angry, Stiles might've been a little more eased by that fact. Laura turned to Stiles, a look of understanding coming across her face. She just smiled and moved towards Stiles, unconcerned with her brother's anger.

"It seems you've met my little one. He didn't give you too much trouble? He can be iffy with new people."

"He was crying because of his toothache. I gave him some ice to suck on and he went to sleep right after. You might want to give him some kid's Tylenol or something." Stiles said handing the boy over.

"Huh, never would've thought of that. Where'd you learn that?"

"My mom. It was an old trick of hers."

"I'll have to thank her. We can have her and your dad over for dinner some time."

Stiles clamored up in an instant at Laura's suggestion. She didn't know. Why would she? Stiles had only met her today. She was too busy to notice, but Derek seemed to take note that something was off. His face softened and his body was free of tension. If anything, he looked sad himself.

"While I appreciate the offer, but I'm afraid that won't be possible."

"How so?" Laura asked.

"My mom died when I was eleven." Laura's face turned white at the realization of Stiles' words. In a mere seconds, he had made the conversation quite grim.

"Stiles, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to-."

"It's fine. Just hard to talk about sometimes is all."

Laura seemed to be at a loss for words, as was Derek. Stiles was shared in that regard. Today was supposed to be about giving someone a new home, a fresh start. A happy day. And Stiles had ruined it. Not intentionally, but he had ruined it nonetheless.

"Well, it's good to see that Tristan likes you. Normally I have to bribe him with sweets to behave around new people."

"Over consumption of sugar and trans fats is the leading cause of childhood obesity in America." Stiles said with a laugh. It had been a poor joke. He'd done in an attempt to diffuse the tension on the room. Laura and Derek both laughed just as Tristan started to wake.

"MAMMA!" the boy cried as he realized who was holding him.

"Inside voice little man. I see you've made a new friend. Good for you."

"Sriles is good. Made toof feel better." the boy said.

"It's pronounced Stiles, sweetie. But we can see him later. Let's go meet your new brother."

Tristan was excited as could be at the prospect. He seemed to forget his toothache. He hardly acknowledged Derek as he and Laura left the kitchen. Speaking of Derek, the man was back to tense and wound. He wasn't angry. But it was clear that he wasn't comfortable being alone with Stiles. That much was obvious.

"I'm sorry."

"What?" Stiles asked.

"I said I'm sorry. I shouldn't have reacted like that. It's just that….I'm kind of protective of Tristan. He doesn't have a fear of strangers like most kids. I'm worried that he'll run off and say hi to every stranger whenever we're out."

"Dude, don't worry about it. Totally get where you're coming from. Just happy that you didn't rip my head off." Stiles said while grinning.

"Don't call me dude." Derek said with that scowl of his.

"Okay dude Derek."

That one got the tiniest hint of a smile. Stiles gloated internally for that. Derek was a tight wound person. That he could see. So for Stiles to get that kind of reaction, it was certainly making up for all the awkwardness earlier.

"Thank you, for taking in Isaac. He needs this. After what he's been through, he needs somewhere stable where people treat him like a person. Not an inconvenience."

"Laura didn't mention anything of what happened to him." Derek said.

"His father was a drunken asshole. He'd broken Isaac's arm at least once. Most of the time, he locked him in a derelict freezer for hours at a time. He's ripped out his nails trying to get out. God knows what else happened in that house."

"Jesus." It was all Derek could say. There really wasn't much else to be said. Words couldn't describe the horrors that Isaac had endured. And Stiles had the feeling that he wasn't going to talk about it any time soon. Kids from those kinds of situations hardly ever did. At first anyway. It would take Isaac some time to open up. He hadn't said one word to Stiles about it. And he was the closest thing he had to a friend. Hopefully, he'd find some solace here. It was the best they could hope for. And in the end, hope was the greatest force of the human nature.

Derek tried his best not to be restless. Laura had told him of her registering as a foster parent some weeks ago. He didn't have any comment on the matter. At the time, he was under the impression that she wasn't actually going to foster anyone. That changed this morning when she casually woke him up, informing him of her doing just that. It was an anxiety inducing situation to say the least. There was no way in hell this kid was going to be a wolf. Even with the resources they had their disposal, Laura couldn't have guaranteed that. That meant in a matter of hours, a very human child would be entering their home. The home that, after so much fighting and toil, had finally been rebuilt.

It had taken Laura over a year to convince Derek to go through with it. They were happy in LA, but the alpha in her longed for the trees of Beacon Hills. Longed for their territory, the territory that had been lost so many years ago. After the events with Ennis, Derek didn't want to deny his sister anything. It had been his fault that they had to transplant themselves in the first place. It wasn't fair to James, and it certainly was fair to Tristan. Not to mention the fact that Cora would have to finish high school in a completely different part of California. She had just started to make friends. And because of Derek, she was torn away from all that. The least he could do was go along with it. He could be cordial and polite. It wasn't going to be that hard. That was the idea. Until he heard two cars pull up instead of just one.

Laura entered the house with two people. The first one reeked of fear and anxiety. It was sour in Derek's nose. The other, the other was very different. It was like summer and fall wrapped into one. Deep, sunshine things with notes of green fields and spice. Derek's wolf rumbled. Whoever this person was, they smelled fantastic. He ignored it. This person was human, it didn't matter how good they smelled. He heard Laura dismiss herself, telling he boy she'd brought home to go and pick a room. The other one, the nice smelling one, moved towards the kitchen. Derek resigned himself to stay where he was. There really wasn't a need to introduce himself. He'd meet the guy soon enough. They were going to be living together after all. That, and he was watching Tristan for James while he was working. Speaking of, the little devil managed to slip away. As he tended to do.

Derek made his way to the foyer where he knew Tristan was likely to be. Even though the shift hadn't come yet, he was already displaying signs of being a wolf. He responded more to scent than sound, able to recognize someone just by how they smelled. It was a sure sign. Laura was a torn on the matter. As a born wolf, it's almost always expected that they give birth to more wolves. But she wanted Tristan to be able to make his own choice in the matter. It was part of her reason for marrying James. He had been born human into a werewolf pack. He decided to remain so, though he did keep contact with his old pack. Laura wanted her children to be able to decide whether or not they wanted to be wolves. As of now, it was all but concreate that Tristan wasn't going to get that.

Derek moved towards the kitchen where the little devil was sure to be. What he found made his heart race. A stranger was holding Tristan in his arms, rocking the boy ever so gently. He couldn't have been more than seventeen. He was as tall as Derek with sunshine-whiskey eyes and more moles that he had time to count. But Derek didn't have time to be enamored with the young man's beauty. A stranger was holding his nephew. Barely holding back the shift, he demanded to know who he was. The boy reeked of fear and panic, and it showed in his scent. And it was the same scent that had entranced Derek earlier. It discomforted him to know that it had been soured because of him. But the boy was holding his nephew, spouting some nonsense about ice and a toothache.

Laura appeared seemingly from nowhere, as she always does. Seeing his alpha reach for his nephew, speaking to the boy with fondness, it helped. Derek recognized him as no longer being a threat. Better yet, the boy's scent returned no it's natural state, allowing Derek to bask in just how wonderful it was. His wolf rumbled with happiness. And something else. He shoved it down as far and as fast as he could. Now was not the time nor the place.

As it turns out, the boy's name was Stiles. Odd, but Derek had heard worse. If he had to hazard a guess, he surmised that it was most likely a nickname. He didn't stay long. The boy excused himself, exiting the house promptly. A slight blush creeping into his pale cheeks. Derek tried not to think too much into it. There was something else that needed attending to. He knew precisely why Laura had opted to bring the other boy, Isaac, into their home. And he wasn't going to have it. Not now, not ever.

She was in Tristan's room, putting him down for a nap. He had an erratic sleeping schedule. With James' work arrangement, it was suitable. She just left when Derek confronted her.

"I don't need him here. You know that."

"Derek, you're an alpha. Whether you like it or not, you need a pack of your own." Laura said firmly.

It wasn't a lie. Ever since he killed Ennis and became an alpha, he had been feeling the pull. The urge to make his own pack. He was ashamed of it. After the fire, Laura had inherited the title from their mother. She had stepped up to the plate and was alpha to him and Cora. Dutifully so. Despite dealing with the loss of their family. Despite only being nineteen. Derek was her loyal beta. He devoted himself to her. A penance for his sins. Now, it felt like it was selfish to want a pack. To no longer have to answer to her. He didn't want to be an alpha. He didn't want any part of it. But he was. There was no denying that.

"You're my pack. And my alpha."

"Derek, I love you. You know I do. But I stopped being your alpha the moment you became one. I'll never forgive myself for not fending off Ennis. That was my responsibility. Not yours. I failed you. Plain and simple."

Derek didn't have the words to respond to his sister. Her guilt compounded on top of his. The fact that she felt the failure was unforgivable. He was her beta. And he overstepped. Plain and simple. It was his fault. Not hers'. He was at fault for a lot of things. None of which were forgivable. He had resigned to that a long time ago.

"Isaac is perfect. His father was abusive and controlling. He needs someone to make him better. You can't stand there and tell me that he wouldn't jump at the opportunity to be like us. To be free of the fear of someone hurting him again. To have the power to defend himself. Derek, I'm asking you, do this. If not for yourself, then for Isaac. He would be the perfect beta."

"Then why don't you turn him?" he snapped.

"Because I have a pack. They may not all be here right now, but a pack they remain. You need one Derek. It makes you stable. It makes you whole. I know we can't ever have them back. But you need something to fill the void."

Her words stung worse than the flames that night. Their family was gone. Their parents. Their cousins. Even Peter was dead. After escaping the fire, he swore revenge on those who had hurt them. And he found it. Kate was dead, burned and buried. As was Peter. He took himself down with her. After they were gone, the Argent family all but crumbled under the weight of their crimes. Even Gerard's staunchest followers flew to the winds. The old man died cursing the Hale name. Derek still didn't feel any relief. His family was still dead. An echo in the night. A nightmare from which he couldn't wake. But Laura was right. There was a void in him. A gaping pit longing for something that word's couldn't describe. It was instinctual. The need, the want of pack. It still felt like a betrayal. Even if his sister was condoning it.

"Alright, I'll talk to the kid. But if he says no, we're going to have an issue."

"He won't. Trust me." Laura said with a sneer.

Derek huffed and annoyance, walking away from his sister. Might as well get it over with. Isaac was in his room, packing away his things. There was so little. So little of him that existed. It seemed that the boy only had a few bags of clothes. All of them were worn and tattered. There were no books, no posters. Nothing that indicated that he had any relevance except for what he could wear on his back. Save for one. A framed picture. It was a chestnut haired woman with eyes like the sea. The boy next to her was a wide grinned youth with the same hair, only much curlier. They must've been his mother and brother. Laura had mentioned that they were both dead. Now, with his father on trial for abuse, Isaac had no family left. Derek's wolf felt a certain pang of distress at that. To know that there was another person, another soul who could identify with that kind of pain. Laura was right, he'd make an excellent beta after all.

He knocked on the door, announcing himself. Isaac shot to attention, standing straight up. The boy reeked of anxiety and fear. It was an unpleasant scent to behold. But Derek was determined. He wanted this, and Isaac needed it. And it all started with five simple words.

"Isaac, I'm Derek. Laura's brother."

"Nice to meet you." the boy said.

"Can we talk for a second?" Isaac nodded and Derek let himself in the boy's room. He let his eyes flash red, not even bothering to beat around the bush. And that, was were things started to fall downhill. He just didn't have the hindsight to see it.


	5. Chapter 5

It had been almost one week since Stiles had left the Hale house, effectively leaving Isaac in their care. It had not been easy. For one, Stiles was the closest thing he had to a friend. Some part of him was still uncomfortable with leaving him there, with those people. He liked Laura, and Derek seemed good enough. But he still worried over Isaac, and how he might've been adjusting. After what he had been through, a new environment to call home was both a blessing and a curse. He tried not to think about it too much. Nothing he could've done anyway.

He informed Isaac of the party two days before it was set to take place. The boy's response was to decline. He said something along the lines of not wanting to be around that many people. Particularly ones that he didn't know. It was simple enough to understand. Isaac, for most of his high school life, had been disregarded by other people. He was someone who was just there, someone who didn't really matter to anyone. Except, he did matter. Even though they weren't as close as some friends would be, Stiles still cared for him. Worried over him. Wanted the best for him. That would never change. He was a little heartbroken to hear that Isaac said no. but when he asked Erica, the response was the exact opposite.

The young woman leapt at the opportunity and squealed with joy when Stiles broke the news. She demanded that they go shopping and find her a proper party outfit. Stiles could only smile and laugh, all the while screaming on the inside. He hated shopping. Thankfully, Erica was none too picky. In fact, she seemed to know exactly what she wanted as soon as she walked into every store. And for some reason, Stiles had the sneaking suspicion that there was more to her than he knew. Underneath layers of misery and self-doubt, Erica was a shining star. A beacon of confidence and wonder. Up until now, she never had any reason to be confident. Stiles knew that she needed him as much as he needed her. Erica was the type to be fearful of others. Their opinions, their judgements frightened her.

Stiles was the exact opposite. He never really cared for what others thought of him. Since he was a child, he had always known that he was an unorthodox individual. His brain processed things differently. There was no filter whenever he spoke. Most of which involved endless rambling. He was prone to overexcitement and anxiety. Athleticism was never a strong point either. Jackson was attractive, good at sports and came from money. Stiles was just the overly energetic kid of the sheriff. There was nothing overly special about him. In any way. He accepted this. He embraced it. There wasn't much else he could do.

The shopping trip, by some blessed miracle, took less than two hours. Erica was all but glowing when they left. Apparently, her parents had no issue with her attending a high school party. If anything, they were condoning it. Stiles was happy to see her happy. If nothing else, she could be a normal teenage girl. For one night, she could forget the hardships of her illness and allow a glimmer of something new into her world. If only for a moment.

When they got back to his house, Erica turned Stiles' room into a miniature fashion show. She tried on every last stitch of clothing she had purchased. Mixing and remixing different pieces until the fashionista in her was satisfied. The final result was a silk top with a tight leather skirt so short, it bordered on obscene. She opted for black stockings paired with a respectably sized heel. In short, Erica was a knockout. No more baggy sweatpants and loose fitting shirts. This was her element. Something that she felt beautiful in. If only his father hadn't come home early.

John Stilinski had been sheriff for some time. There was very little that could surprise him. After all, Stiles was a handful as it was. What with having sever ADHD and anti-social tendencies. So imagine his father's surprise to find a girl, a rather attractive one, standing in the living room. Stile cursed himself for not calling the man beforehand. Too late now. He just stood there, wordlessly, and without a single comment. Stiles mirrored that response. Erica on the other hand, she was tickled pink. She went rushing over to the sheriff, entrapping him in a massive hug. The girl squealed out a greeting while the sheriff could do nothing but stand there. Stiles tried his best not laugh. It was amusing to see his father so gob smacked. It was a rare sight to behold.

After Erica released him, the sheriff asked the usual questions. Who she was, why she was here. Stiles knew he wanted to ask the more important ones. Like he and Erica were a thing. Had he asked, Stiles would've said the sky was more likely to turn a lovely shade of magenta first. Not that there was anything wrong with Erica. Only that she was a friend. Stiles cared for her, loved being with her and spending time together. But it was nothing more than that. There were some days where he himself entertained the idea. It didn't quite match up in his head. She deserved someone better than him. Someone a little less strange. Someone a little less broken. Stiles came with a certain kind of baggage.

He kept it locked away, hidden from sight. No matter the weight of it, no matter the struggle of it. There was no one he ever told. Not his father. Not even Scott, when they were still on speaking terms. Some secrets weren't meant to be shared. Even with the people you loved. Stiles resigned himself to fight his own demons, in his own way. No need to drag anyone else down with him. Erica least of all. She had been through enough.

It was a difficult thing to hide. He had carried it with him for many years, the death of his mother. There was little comfort to be found. No reprieve from the guilt he still felt from that night. The nightmares were less frequent. The panic attacks had subsided into almost nothingness. But there was still that hollow ache in his heart. An unshakable feeling of loss and grief. It would never really go away and it would never heal. He had accepted that some time ago. It was the way of the world. And there was very little that could change it. If nothing at all.

His father was still reeling at the fact that he had brought a girl home. A bombshell of a one at that. It was almost enough to slip by the fact that they were going to a party. Oops. He was none too happy at that realization. There was a lengthy conversation about the perils of underage drinking. And drunk driving. And after Erica had excused herself, his father saw fit to give him a detailed talk about safe sex. Stiles did his best not to cringe.

After the conversation, and its many painful points had concluded, Stiles set off to the kitchen. He wasn't going to bring booze to Allison's party. He wasn't an idiot. His father was a well-connected man and he had no doubt that smuggling alcohol to a part would travel rather quickly. He was the sheriff's kid after all. Instead, he opted to bring something else that is always appreciated at a party. Food.

His mother was an excellent cook. She had ways with sauces and pastries that made everyone clamor to come over for dinner. Stiles was always in the kitchen with her. He never missed an opportunity to learn. They cooked together, smearing flour and spices everywhere. The mess was worth the outcome. Every time. Erica came in behind him just as he was slicing the goat cheese. She didn't offer to help. He didn't expect her to. Less she smear her perfect makeup. Stiles went about the kitchen, preparing the appetizer he had in mind. Erica watched with fascination, and even a certain fondness. Part of Stiles recognized that. It was similar to the way he once looked at Lydia. Erica was a good person, and Stiles enjoyed her company. But there was nothing beyond that. He didn't feel that way. After spending so many years pining after a girl that could never be his, he just wanted to take a break from that kind of thing. The only downside was Erica. He knew there would be no gentle way to tell her so.

After the tartlets had been placed in the oven, Stiles went upstairs to shower and change. There wasn't much he had to pick in terms of party outfits. He was a flannel and cargo kind guy. It was his thing. It was comfortable. It was familiar. Compared to Erica, he would look rather drab. But that would make her shine all the brighter. She deserved this night. Deserved to be admired and talked about. In a good way for once in her life. Stiles could give that to her.

Back downstairs in the kitchen, Erica had removed the tartlets from the oven. She looked rather odd in a pair of oven mitts. It clashed with the rest of her outfit. Stiles repressed a smile. They loaded into the Jeep, and set out. Stiles' father had given them a strict curfew of elven. Which, in all fairness, was more than reasonable. Stiles wasn't one for staying out late. He wasn't one for going out at all in the first place. Social anxiety and whatnot. Scott notwithstanding. Allison's house was in the nicer part of Beacon Hill's. It was a beautiful collection of upscale houses that had been developed in recent years. There were already throngs of cars parked outside. Stiles couldn't hear any music playing. Which was a good thing. The neighbors were the type to call the police if anything happened.

It was Allison who answered the door. She was dressed semi-formal. Sleek black top with matching leggings. She was beautiful. She was also surprised to see Erica. No doubt due to her makeover. Nevertheless, she invited them in asking Stiles what he had brought.

"Goat cheese tartlets."

"You can cook?" Allison asked.

"I've been known to smash a gender barrier or two in my time."

Allison laughed and took the tray from him, and headed towards what he guessed was the kitchen. There were roughly two dozen people. The music was just loud enough to be pleasant. But not so loud that it drowned out conversation. Stiles scanned the room and saw that many of the people here were from Lydia and Jackson's group. Most of the first line of the lacrosse team. As well as baseball. The others were various mean girls with more of daddy's money than actual sense. He knew right off the bat that he wasn't going to be talking to any of these people. He opted to find a small corner and sit down, out of sight. Instead, he saw someone he recognized. And it surprised him.

Heather had been his friend before even Scott. They were three years old playing in the sandbox at daycare. She was kind and witty and all the things Stiles could ever want in a girlfriend. They had grown distant over the years. Talking only on occasion. She was still the same as ever. A petite blonde that defied every stereotype there was. She had grown into herself over the last few years. She had curves in certain places, her chest more filled. The roundness in her cheeks was gone. Leaving sharp edges that defined her as more of a young woman rather than a teenager. Stiles hadn't seen talked with her since that night.

It was just before the start of junior year. Heather had called him out of the blue, wanting to go and do something. So, Stiles headed over to her house in the Jeep and strolled right on inside. They fell into their old pattern with ease. Watching crappy movies, laughing at the actors trying to make the best of terrible writing. It was good. It was nice. A sense of peace that he hadn't felt in a long time. The sort of the thing that sent a warm feeling to his core. What he didn't expect was when she leaned over and kissed him.

Stiles had frozen in place, unable to do anything. Heather lips were warms and tasted like the sun. Bright and fiery. She leaned back and asked him if he wanted this. He did. He loved Heather. Mabey not in love, but he did love her. And she was beautiful. From an objective point of view. He was nervous. He was a virgin in just about every way. Heather was too. She didn't seem to care much.

She took off her shirt, revealing the expanse of her torso. Creamy white skin without flaw. Her breasts were held in a black lace bra. Stiles fumbled to remove his shirt as well. Heather laughed at him. He kissed her again, feeling the softness of her lips. It was magical. She ran her hands up his back while he unfastened her bra. It was a beautiful thing. He ran his hands along them, gently. With feather light touches. Heather had lost her focus and broke away, moaning. The sound went right down to the space between his legs. It felt natural, unhinged. Like everything was perfect.

He could feel himself harden in his pants, but he was more focused on Heather. She laid down, lifting her hips as to remove her pants. Naked before him, Stiles was in something of awe. He trailed kisses down her chest and stomach, savoring the silky feel of her skin. He paused at her hips, silently asking for permission. She nodded meekly, and he moved forward. The first swipe of his tongue sent a shiver through her. He didn't have much experience in the department, but apparently, he was doing something right. He went slowly, taking his time. Moving with precision and delicacy. She was warm and sweet against his tongue. Unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

He continued for what felt like ages. Heather's skin grew hot beneath his hands. She fidgeted and squirmed, moaning all the while. Stiles took it as a compliment. He continued, savoring the silkiness of her. Running his hands along her thighs, taking in the smooth expanse of her skin. Heather grew less and less coherent. Her orgasm came as surprise, her legs clasping tightly around Stiles' head. She was breathless, flushed with the afterglow. But, she wasn't done yet. The young woman forced Stiles on his back, straddling his thighs. Somewhere, she had managed to produce a condom. She rolled it onto him, slowly, intimately. Then, she lowered herself down, with Stiles joining in.

It was everything and nothing that he had imagined. The warmth of it. The feel of another body aligning with his own, in perfect tandem. They worked together, finding a rhythm that suited them both. Stiles canted his hips upwards, whilst Heather gyrated in an almost artful way. It was beautiful. It was sexy. It was everything he wanted his first time to be. And more. Heather lost control quickly. Her motions became quick and hurried. There was no patience left in her as she chased her second orgasm. Stiles was the same. Heat coiled in the base of his spine spreading down through his legs, right down to his toes.

He came with a whimper, a slight twitch in his lips. It was like nothing he had every felt before. Heather reached her climax seconds later, collapsing on top of him as she gave out. Stiles enjoyed it. The warmth of her bare chest pressed to his. The softness of her skin. The embrace after the embrace. As far as sex went, it was about as good as it could get. Ten out of ten, would do again. They stayed like that for some time. Huddled together, simply enjoying the presence of one another. Until finally, Heather fell asleep. Stiles didn't stay. Not because it felt awkward or uncomfortable. But because there was nothing else he could give her. Not tonight anyway.

The two of them hadn't spoken since that night. Stiles still liked to think of her as a friend. As someone who he could trust and love. But something had changed between them. They were no longer the same people that they were that night. A lot had changed since then. But even still, he could do little more than smile and wave as she did the same. It was as much as he could offer. The past was cemented in the foundations of action. That was certain. But he didn't regret it. He liked to think Heather felt the same.

They simply acknowledge each other's presence and move on. The party itself is relatively low key. Enough people that they can mingle. Not so many where one has to shout above others. Erica is making the most of her debut. There are more than a few people vying for her attention. Stiles recognizes one. Boyd, the son of the ice skate rink owners. As far as people go, he is much like Erica. In the sense that he's quiet. Never making any noise, never the center of attention. But tonight, Erica seems to have woken something up in him as he is trying his best to carry a conversation. Stiles smiles to himself before moving on. All sorts of interesting things are happening at this party. One of them comes in the form of a slap across his face.

He had known for years that Lydia was a lot more formidable than she let on. Being five foot three in a pair of stilettos meant nothing. There was a fury behind those sultry green eyes that would frighten the devil himself. It comes hard, stinging his cheek, knocking him out of reality for a few brief moments. Others surrounding him have stop to stare. Lydia gives them a sharp glare, forcing the lot of them to scamper away. Now, she stand in collected anger, drink hanging from loose and dainty fingers.

"Okay, I deserved that. Kissing you was wrong."

"I'm not much mad about the kiss as is what you said to me afterwards." she snapped.

"And that was?" Stiles asked with a tremor of fear.

"That I can do better than Jackson. You're smart Stilinski, but don't ever assume to know what's best for a woman. Especially me. Now, enjoy the rest of the party. There's ice in the kitchen for your cheek."

With that, Lydia sauntered off in that perfect way that only she could ever manage. Stiles had never been slapped before. In truth, he had deserved it. But in the same moment, he was glad Lydia did it. She proved there was a lot more to her than just a pretty face. Now, he was going to enjoy the remainder of his evening. Scott was talking with Allison and some of the guys from first line. Stiles was still on the team, technically. But he was never more than a benchwarmer. A sad fact, but a fact it remained. Mainly, he had tried out to make his dad happy. To be more than the son that talked too much and flailed at the slightest provocation. Maybe he could find something to talk about.

He was just making his way over when he heard a scream. Someone shouting to call 911. Stiles looked over, seeing Erica on the ground. He was by her side in an instant, turning her over just as she vomited. The thrashing started right after. As far as seizures went, this was a bad one. All Stiles could do was help her get through it. That's all he ever seemed to be able to do.


	6. Chapter 6

Derek was having trouble sleeping. Again. This was nothing new. Ever since the fire, the world of sleep had become something that he dreaded. There were dreams of ash and blackened flesh. The screams of the dying, trapped and helpless. Pain. Above all else, pain. That of those whom he loved. His family. His pack. The people that were the grounding pins to this world. Gone and seared away in an act of sheer and utter cruelty. That night, some part of him had died. Turned rotten and foul. And it was all his fault.

After Paige, he never had a chance to see Kate coming. With her long hair and soft touches. She was everything he thought he needed. There were days when it felt good. When the embrace of another alleviated the agony of loss. It didn't last long. He felt it. The moment they died. As did Laura. When the alpha power passed to her, it was the moment his heart shattered into incomprehensible pieces. From there, it only got worse. Peter and Cora were the only ones to make it out of the fire. His uncle had managed to save his little sister. But he went back in for the rest. He didn't come back out. The doctors had said that there were third degree burns on over thirty percent of his body. Wolves didn't heal from everything. Fire engrained itself into the flesh, marrying it with pain and brutal force. Peter stayed in the hospital for a long time.

They fled to New York, on the other side of the country. Away from their pain. Away from their loss. And for Derek, away from his shame. It didn't help. Not him anyway. The loss of pack was something that never really went away. Even after Cora stopped crying at night, asking for their mother. Even after Laura had built a new pack. Omegas they had found. Betas that disliked their alphas. Even the random humans that stumbled into their lives from time to time. It was good for her. To have them. Alphas needed betas. They grounded them, made them feel whole. Laura was fantastic. Just like their mother. Kind but firm. Wise beyond belief. But still, there was Derek.

The new pack was excited to have him. For him to be their brother. Their friend. Their confidant. It did little to help him. They were good wolves. They ran on the moon, making noise in the night. Reveling in its splendor. But it wasn't enough to erase his guilt. The truth that he had caused the decimation of his family. When Peter finally woke up is when things hit the fan. Six years in a fire ridden coma had driven him mad. He ripped his way through Beacon Hills, slashing and tearing down all those who were involved with the fire. Kate was the last of him. Derek had arrived just as Peter tore out her throat. He was splattered with blood, mad with death. And now, Derek was in his sights. In the midst of his rampage, he had gleaned the truth of the person who led Kate into their home. He didn't even speak. He just charged. That's when Chris Argent put an entire clip into his stomach.

Peter was still fighting it. Still trying to claw his way towards Derek. Chris put one in his head to stop him. The man looked at him with tears in his eyes. It was the only time Derek had seen him show any emotion. He offered a solemn apology and left. It was long after that his family fell. Chris spread word of Kate's crime through the underground. The other families were displeased. Not because of a bunch of innocent people dying. But because she had drawn attention to them. To their world. In all the death, in all the suffering, not one of them felt guilt for Kate's actions. The only real relief was Gerard's death and the dismantling of the man's family. Even the staunchest hunters felt no loyalty to him after that. He died, old and angry. It was a temporary relief.

Derek went back to New York, telling Laura everything. She was angry. She was upset. But most of all, she was happy. In a strange way. Peter was dead, but he had punished the people responsible for the death of their pack. Save for one. Derek didn't bother to hide it. To conceal the truth from his alpha. He expected to be banished. To be thrown out. At the very least, to be physically punished. But it never came. Laura took him in her arms and told him that he was loved. He cried for the first time in six years. Things were calm for a while. Key part being a while.

Deucalion was one of many celebrating Gerard's demise. The man had left him blinded and broken. But now, he was made anew. With four alphas following him. Their presence made Derek's skin crawl. It violated everything that mean pack. Power and death radiated off of them in vile waves, sickening his stomach. Deucalion had said they were visiting to congratulate Laura on her making a new pack. Derek didn't trust them for a second. Particularly where Ennis was concerned. He was the alpha that had turned Paige. When Derek had asked him to relent, the man didn't. It ended with him snapping Paige's spine to end her suffering. Derek hated him on principal. More so since he started sniffing around Laura.

The man was lecherous. Making unwanted advances, invading her space. She tolerated in with grace and poise. Until one day, Derek didn't stand by and watch. Deucalion had already overstayed his welcome. The entire pack was on edge. It was more than enough to drive him over the edge. But it all came to a boiling point when Ennis actually dared to place his hands on Laura. One moment Derek was standing. The next, he had charged and slammed Ennis' head into the ground. He didn't stop there. He bit and slashed and tore until the man was no more. The moment he felt the alpha power was when he knew it was too late. It was like fire in his blood. Swimming through him with untampered fury. Etching itself into every cell, every piece of him. Routing itself down into his body. He feared the worst. That Deucalion was going to retaliate. That he was going to decimate them. But the man simply smiled. He actually congratulated Derek. He left shortly afterwards, the others following him.

It was a difficult adjustment to say the least. Laura was the first born, the one trained from the first shift to be an alpha. The power difference was staggering. He felt the moon more intensely, and to say nothing of his senses. Every sound, every scent was painful. But most of all was the disconnection. He could no longer feel Laura or the others. He wasn't a beta anymore. He was an omega alpha. No pack and no betas. No one to feel. Laura made the decision to move back to Beacon Hills not longer after the change. Derek realized that it was to give him a chance at pack. He had found its beginning in Isaac.

Looking back when they first met, he should've handled it better. One moment he was human, the next he wasn't. The boy was terrified. It took over an hour to calm him down. After that, he was rather attentive. He explained what he and Laura were. And what he was offering. The benefits. The setbacks. And most of all, the dangers. Isaac asked plenty of questions, making sure he had every detail. In the end, he decided to be turned. And Derek gave it to him. Gladly. It was something of rush. The feel of the young man's flesh beneath his teeth. He knew straight away that the bite would take. The first blossom of the connection was like a breath of fresh air. He felt whole, in a small way. Isaac filled the part of him that desired pack. That desired a beta. The young man took to it in stride.

He had issues with control. Even with the full moon being weeks away, he was still a teenager. And teenagers were riddled with hormones. He had shifted the first time he heard Tristan cry. It was an instinctual reaction. Derek had managed to calm him down. Isaac sulked afterwards. It had been less than a week. But it made little difference to him. He thought himself a failure. And where that was concerned, he expected to be punished. Most likely from the years of abuse he endured at the hands of his father. Derek just held him and told him that it was going to be okay. Isaac cried for the first time since moving in. All the while, Derek never let go.

He was handling school well. Even though he wasn't able to be in close proximity to his friends. There had been no incidents yet. And Derek held hope that there wouldn't be. The young man was getting better with each passing day. But he had yet to face his first full moon. That's what had Derek worried the most. His first moon as an alpha was the worst. Laura actually had to chain him in the basement of their apartment complex. It ended as well as one could've hoped. With Derek a sobbing mess, spouting apologies. Hopefully Isaac would be able to find an anchor before then. It was a longshot, but one that Derek held onto.

It was one of the many things keeping him awake. Too much on the brain, not enough space to process it all. So when he heard a shuffling from upstairs, he bolted to the door and saw that Isaac was in a state of panic. His eyes were glowing gold, fangs already starting to form. Derek took him in arm and asked what was wrong. Apparently, one of his friends had a seizure and was currently in hospital. Isaac had been on Facebook when he stumbled across a video of paramedics taking someone out on a stretcher. The video had been riddled with shouting and someone charging at the person filming. But he had seen that it was his friend before the video cut out.

He wanted to go and see her. Pretty much every part of Derek was screaming no. That it was a horrible idea. Isaac was already worked up and overexcited. Being around that many people was a risk. Not to mention the number of cameras around every corner. Too many eyes and ears to hide from. Too many faces to keep track of. Every ounce of his mother's words echoed in the back of his mind. As did his failure in letting Kate into their home. At the same time, he recognized that this young woman was his pack. In a roundabout way. He knew her before turning. It was only natural that his first instincts was to go to her.

He got Isaac to calm down and drove them to the hospital. They found the young woman's room quickly. Isaac had already gotten the hang of scenting people out of crowd. Derek was proud of him. They made their way through the throngs of people in the halls. It was a weekend after all. Isaac managed to keep calm and never once came close to shifting. Not even a flash of the eyes. Derek felt himself swell with pride at his beta's control. For being so new, he was doing extremely well.

When they finally got to the room and entered, Derek's heart stilled for a moment. The young woman was lying in a bed, pale faced and sleeping. It was who was in the room with her that caught his attention. Stiles sat in a chair, dead to the world. He had fallen asleep with the young woman. More surprising, he had done so whilst holding her hand. Their fingers were intertwined, the both of them away from the waking world. Isaac whined lowly in his throat at the sight. He made his way towards Stiles, settling between the young man's legs. He rested his head on Stiles' knee, taking in the scent of his friend. The young man woke briefly, running his hand over Isaac's head, offering a sleepy hello. Isaac murmured in response, letting himself be embraced by Stiles. The young man was scenting the other, even if he hadn't realized it.

Derek felt his wolf stir with interest at the sight. He had only just turned Isaac, but he felt a certain pull towards the young woman. She was ill and frail. The bite would cure her affliction. Make her strong. Make her better. It would've been a good match. He wondered if it was too soon. Especially where Stiles was concerned. The young man had shown a natural instinct to care and comfort. He alleviated Tristan's toothache. He had been protective of Isaac when he moved in with them. And he had fallen asleep next to the young woman, unwilling to leave her side. He was Isaac's friend and protector before he came to them. From what Laura had said, he actually locked the young man's father outside of his house to get to him. Despite the potential consequences. All in all, he showed all the signs of being a good wolf. Derek knew that. But one beta was enough. For the moment. The young woman would be a better match in the end. She would benefit more from it. Derek would talk with Isaac about it tomorrow. For now, he settled on finding a decent book to read until his beta was ready to leave. From the way he had rooted himself in the room, it was going to be a while. Strangely enough, Derek was okay with it.


	7. Chapter 7

Stiles' neck hurt. A lot actually. The time leading him to being in the hospital were something of a blur. He remembers making sure Erica didn't asphyxiate on her vomit. Then seeing some jackoff trying to record the whole thing. Before he could even move, Scott was there, taking the jerk's phone away. Most of the first line guys were there, forming a sort of barricade around them, blocking the view. Even Jackson stood as sentinel. The paramedics arrived and transported Erica to the hospital. Stiles caught Matt taking a video. He smashed his phone into the ground, hoping that it would do enough damage to prevent him from posting it. The method didn't succeed. Within the hour Matt had the video uploaded to Facebook. Stiles made a note to tell his dad when he got the chance. And to knock a few of Matt's teeth down his throat.

At the hospital, the doctors had to physically stop him from going wherever Erica did. It was hell. Seeing as he wasn't a blood relation, they weren't legally bound to give him any information on her status. Melissa gave him what bits and pieces where she could. She would be fine, from what he gathered. She would be admitted to ensure her stabilization. After which, a series of tests would be done to see if there was any brain damage. Stiles shuddered at that. He knew epilepsy caused brain damage. Fact was, Erica's brain was already damaged. That much he knew. Worse, the medicines had stopped working. She hadn't had one in months. No signs of any. Then, all of a sudden, she was on the ground, thrashing in pain.

It was two hours before he was able to see her. It may have been well past visiting hours, but the hospital staff knew to stay out of his way. More than a few times, Stiles had found himself in trouble whilst in this hospital. Particularly when his mother was here. All the nurses and doctors learned rather quickly the damage an emotionally distraught child like him could cause. The only difference between then and now was that he was older and a lot smarter. Needless to say, he strolled right into her room and made himself comfortable.

They didn't talk much. Stiles made sure to keep the video a secret. He would deal with it in the morning. Erica didn't deserve the things people were saying about her. She had gotten her confidence and dared to be a normal teenager for once. That was bravery most of them couldn't even fathom. Stiles made a list in his mind of all the people that were commenting rude things on the post. He reported it every hour. Just to try and drive the point home. But the damage had been done. And the people responsible were going to get a rather rude wake call come Monday.

It didn't take long for Erica to fall asleep. To say the young woman was exhausted would've been an understatement. The doctors had given her a mild pain killer to help with the headaches that would follow the seizure. Stiles felt himself drifting to. He laced his fingers in hers, a rooting point for the both of them. To keep her safe in the world of hazy, drug induced dreams. To make them soft and pleasant. To ensure the nightmare creatures of the world stayed away. And then, he to drifted into sleep. It was an awkward angle, by no means the best. But he found himself oddly tired.

It seemed only minutes later when he was being woken. Someone was placing themselves between his knees, resting their head on the side of his leg. He opened his sleep dredged eyes to see that it was Isaac. He was misty eyed and solemn faced. Stiles ran his hand over the young man's head, soothing him for what effort he could provide. He swore he heard Isaac purring. He blamed it on the lack of sleep. Just as he was about to drift back into slumber, he swore he saw a broad shouldered figure standing in the doorway. He didn't have time to think about it.

The next time he woke it was because a nurse was telling them they had to leave. He cracked his neck, stretching the rest of him. His body creaked and popped due to the piss poor sleeping conditions, but he was up nonetheless. Isaac was less inclined to follow direction. It took some nudging, but he too got up from where he had rested. The young man rubbed the sleep from his eyes, trying his best to shake off the vestiges of sleep. He looked at Erica with a sense of longing. As if he was happy to see that she was okay. But disheartened to her in a hospital bed. Stiles understood the feeling.

They left Erica without waking her, making their way back towards the lobby. There were less people there. It being the morning. But there was someone there that took Stiles by surprise. Derek was sitting, magazine in hand, drinking the shitty coffee the hospital provided. He was very much out of place. He might as well be a tack in a Michelangelo piece. Odd and obvious. He perked to attention when Isaac drew closer. The older man rose and took the younger in his arms, hugging him gently. It was a strange thing to witness. Isaac had never been a very tactile person to begin with. But he was being embraced by one of the people who had taken him in. Stiles took it as a good thing that he was so comfortable with him.

Isaac slipped out of the embrace, head tucked down. Derek ruffled the younger man's hair before making his way over to Stiles. He was as stern faced as ever. Seemingly without a smile or any other expression save for scowling. It was a good look on him.

"Is she doing okay?" Derek asked.

"The doctors said there won't be any long lasting damage. But it was bad. She hasn't had one in a while. So that just makes it worse." He remembers the first time he ever witnessed Erica having a seizure. It was something out of a nightmare. Up until then, Stiles had only ever seen it in movies and on tv shows. The real thing was far worse. It was far more frightening and terrible than any depiction could give. He felt helpless. Powerless to help this girl who was suffering. It was something that stayed with him. And not in a good way.

Derek simply nodded in deject affirmation. There wasn't really anything to say. Erica was sick, and she wasn't getting better. Stiles knew, in the long run, epilepsy never really got better. There was no cure. No miracle drug. She would be taking pills for the rest of her life. Making sure that she stayed stable. Problem was, with all the side effects, she was half a person. And there was a history of her medicines failing after a while. There was no good solution. No real positive outcome. That was just the truth of it. And Stiles didn't know what to do. But he would figure something out. He always did.

He bid Isaac a quick goodbye, the young man hugging him tightly. He swore that Isaac rubbed his cheek on him. Whatever, it had been a long night. The weirdness of it all would dissipate soon enough. On the way out, he comes across Boyd, carrying a bouquet of flowers. No doubt here to see Erica. Stiles gives him her room number and tells him to be as quiet as possible. Boyd doesn't say anything. He simply leaves with a curt nod and goes on his way. It was something that Stiles could respect. Everything that could be said with silence.

The Jeep is where he left it, parked right out front. Somehow, in his panicked state, he actually managed to park it correctly. And not in the handicap spot like he did when Scott had his last asthma attack. The drive home to short, the roads being clear first thing in the morning. Thankfully, it was a Sunday, so there was no school. Erica would still be in the hospital for the next few days. Stiles made a note to get the coursework from her teachers. And maybe bring something other than stale, cardboard hospital food for her to eat. Lord knows that would make her day.

Melissa is waiting inside when he opens the door. He had made her a key years ago. And Stiles had made a copy of Scott's. Maybe without either of their knowledge or permission. But hey, they were family. And family stuck together. Proving the point, Melissa had prepared a spread of food from what meager groceries were in the fridge. Eggs, bacon, and hash browns. Stiles never stopped loving just how Melissa took care of him. Even if she needed it more. He puts the coffee on, the both of them needing it. She had gotten off of a 12 hour shift, due to be back within the next 8. Stiles just wanted something warm to drink.

"It was nice of you to stay with her. Erica's parents came by while you were asleep."

"Shame they couldn't stay. I mean, it was only their daughter." Stiles snapped.

"They have jobs honey. Work they have to do. With her being back in the hospital, it'll only make things harder." Stiles tried his best not to be mad at that. His own father had to manage an entire county of officers. And they didn't pay him nearly enough to do so. Despite his high approval ratings. And constant in field work with the people of Beacon Hills. He was a well-liked man, people never having a bad thing to say about him. They had just managed to pay off his mom's hospital bills. After seven long years, they were debt free. It was something that had caused a rather large amount of stress in both of their lives. His dad tried to hide it, but Stiles was never one to be fooled. He was far too clever for that.

Melissa was not in better circumstances. After her douche of a husband left, he basically left her and Scott destitute. He sent money maybe two or three times a year. The first few were the hardest. Scott stayed over a lot back then. His mom taking the worst hours, always trying to find more money. He tried his best to be a good friend, keeping Scott occupied with movie marathons and junk food. Eventually, things even out and Melissa was able to find some stability. It was a rough go even after. For everyone. Scott's asthma got worse, requiring more and expensive medicine. Stiles' father struggled to keep up with the medical bills still saying final notice. It was a tough and turbulent time. But they made it through together. Stiles wondered just what happened since then that made Scott so distant. He wondered what had happened to his friend.

Melissa finished the breakfast with him, then made her way home. She was in desperate need of sleep. Stiles was to. But he was still agitated from last night. And what people had done. He scrolled through Facebook, taking screenshots of everything people were saying. He made note of who reposted the video, all of the comments. Even if it got taken down, the people involved were still gonna catch hell for it. He never was one to take other's bullshit lying down. He stayed at it for over an hour, totaling seventeen people who were the worst. There were a handful of others who simply reposted the video. He made sure to catalog that Matt had been the one to start it. Even with his technological knowhow, he wasn't getting out of it.

He texted Isaac to make sure that he made it home safely. The young man said that he was fine, just staying out of the way. Derek's younger sister was moving back to Beacon Hills from New York. Along with some of their other relatives. It seems Laura was relocating the lot of them. Stiles wondered how comfortable Isaac was going to be in the midst of all of it. He wasn't a social person to begin with. Crowds made him sketchy and jittery. Too much noise causing him to retreat into himself. Stiles had seen it time and time again in the locker room. Isaac shuffling out of the way, trying his best not to be seen.

He offered the spare room of their home if Isaac needed it. To get away from the chaos of it all. He had been ripped from his home life, and plopped down into a new one without a moment's notice. Stiles understood that kind of drastic change. He wanted to make sure Isaac was okay. Even if he couldn't be exactly what he needed. Just like he couldn't be with Erica.

He had seen the way she looked at him. With wide eyes, shining and full of happiness. Stiles knew that's the way he used to look at Lydia. He knew exactly what that kind of one sided affection could do to a person. Erica was his friend. She was sassy. She was everything he should want in a girlfriend. But he didn't feel that way. He loved her. Plain and simple. That was the end of it. That's what he wanted their relationship to be. Nothing more. He knew he'd have to tell her eventually. He just didn't know how to say it. To gracefully decline her feelings without destroying her. Maybe she'd go for Boyd. He was nice, if a little quiet. They could find happiness together. Leaving Stiles alone, as always. It was okay though. He'd gotten used to it.


	8. Chapter 8

Erica was discharged from the hospital a full two days ahead of what was charted. She had, in some way, made a miraculous recovery. Stiles was both confused and happy in the same moment. Happy because she didn't have to stay in that place any longer than needed. Confused because she should've stayed to begin with. Past experience had taught him plenty of diseases of the brain and just how debilitating they could truly be. Epilepsy wasn't something that could be shrugged off and forgotten. It was a life consuming illness that left the victim rattled and borderline unstable. Erica would've been physically and emotionally drained after that seizure. Point being, he wanted to know about her miraculous recovery. But it could wait. There were other things that he had to attend to first.

He starts the school day by heading to the principal's office. He is a surly English gentleman that has a non-existent sense of humor. Stiles doesn't like or care for the man, at all. In terms of total and complete douchery, he could give Harris a run for his money. There would be no easy way to meet with him. But if there was one thing this man loved doing, it was punishing students. Just like Harris actually. He listens with dejected intent, barely paying attention at all. Cyber bullying had been an issue in California for a while. And it had only gotten worse. It was hard to punish someone over an online post when said post could be deleted. That's where Stile came in. He handed the man the screenshots of everything he had collected. What time Matt had posted the video. Who all had shared it. More so, everyone nasty thing people had commented. It was a virtual treasure trove of proof. The man took it with a blank face and told Stiles to get to class.

First period was always the worst. He was still lax from sleep and trying to pay attention to things that bored the hell out of him. But he collected the course work from the teacher on the days that Erica had missed. She was surprisingly amicable about the whole thing. He did similar in all the other classes he shared with Erica. The rest were outside of what he could do. He had no clue which teachers to even go to. But he had enough notes to help her catch up in some of the classes. After a while, shortly before lunch, the principal called the names of every student Stiles had given to the office. He felt himself smile wickedly as the marched to their doom.

Matt was the last. As the original poster of the video, he would most likely face the harshest consequence. It was a big no-no to film people without their permission. More so when they were being carried into an ambulance. Needless to say, he looked forward to seeing just what the school had in store for him. As well as the others. It was sure to be entertaining, to say the least.

The day ended with him having more homework than needed. And him missing Erica. Isaac as well. He had been surprisingly absent and it had him worried. Stiles had sent him a text with no reply. That just made the gears in his head move faster and converge on not so good thoughts. One of the first signs of abuse was the victim being isolated from the people they were closest to. When living with his father, Isaac hadn't been allowed to have a cell phone. It was part of the reason he never called for help. Because he quite literally couldn't. Stiles wondered just what he was up to when the final bell rang.

He bypassed his house and went straight into the preserve. Showing up unannounced wasn't the best way to greet someone. But he wasn't going to run the risk of Isaac being in trouble. Laura and Derek seemed like perfectly good people. Then again, so had Isaac's father. People always seemed nice on the surface. Dig down deep enough, and you could find darkness you never knew existed. He was achingly familiar with that concept. In more ways than one.

Laura's Camaro is in the drive, meaning at least she or Derek is home. That was good. He jumps out of the Jeep and heads straight for the door. It opens before he even has a chance to knock. The young woman is Lydia's height and build. If only with a tad more muscle definition. She has the same flawless skin and dark hair as Laura. But the trademark scowl can only be from Derek. It was their young sister, Cora. Stiles remembered Isaac telling him that she was moving back from New York. Judging by the bags under her eyes, she must've gotten off the plane a few hours ago. Jet lag could be a real bitch.

He was just about to introduce himself when the pitter patter of tiny feet came rumbling down the foyer. Tristan bypassed Cora and latched onto Stiles' leg, laughing joyfully. The little boy was all too happy to see him. He made grabby hands, just like the first time they met, demanding to be held. Stiles could only oblige. Tristan giggled softly and buried his face in Stiles' neck, nesting himself in the older boy's arms. It was cute. And it had completely dumbfounded Cora.

"Well, that's a surprise."

"Sorry. I'm Stiles, Isaac's friend. He hasn't been answering his phone and I was just coming by to see if he was okay."

She jerks her head towards the house, indicating him to go inside. Odd, seeing as she had just met him seconds ago. Tristan seemed perfectly immune to all of it as he made his way to the living room. There was a large amount of noise coming from that area. A video game from the sound of it. Stiles walked in to find Isaac mashing away on a controller, shooting at another character. He also found Erica there. She was radiant, full of energy she didn't have days ago. It was something of a shock. In the hospital, she had been barely conscious, drained and stressed beyond from her ordeal. Now, she was healthy and vibrant, cheerfully loading Isaac's character with bullets. The two of them went at it for a few more minutes before noticing him. When they did though, things got a little weird.

Erica leaped from the couch, wicked grin on her face. She entrapped Stiles in a hug, doing her best to work around Tristan. Isaac joined in, making an awkward yet oddly comforting human cage around him. He swore he heard the two of them purring, trying to bury themselves into his torso. It was a tad much. And Tristan was starting to squirm ever so slightly. The union was interrupted by someone clearing their throat. Erica and Isaac shot back from him, heads down, eyes trained to the floor. Derek was standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking like someone had just murdered a puppy. The scowl was his trademark after all.

"Stiles, we weren't expecting you."

"I came to see Isaac. He wasn't at school today."

"He needed a day off. It's fine."

Except, it wasn't. There was no reason that Isaac would've needed a day off from school. He wasn't sick or otherwise. In fact, he seemed perfectly fine. He had been playing games with Erica, happy as could be. That was suspicion number one. The next one was Isaac's reaction when Derek had made his presence known. It's as if him coming downstairs had sent a shock to his system, making him almost frightened. The way he looked at the floor. Not wanting to make eye contact. Everything Stiles had read said that was a classic sign of abuse victims. They were afraid to upset or anger their abusers. So they made themselves disappear in open spaces. Not making any noise. Any disruptions. Isaac had done just that. But it wasn't any solid proof. Anything that Stiles could bring to his father. For the moment, he'd have to watch and observe.

He set Tristan down and properly introduced himself to Cora. The young woman nodded stiffly and flared her nostrils. It was an odd reaction. Stiles didn't bother trying to make sense of it. She trotted off, saying something about still needing to unpack. Isaac and Erica seemed to relax when Derek left to put Tristan to bed for a nap. Which was another odd thing, seeing as it was the later part of the afternoon. He'd end up being awake all through the night. Again, he tried to ignore it. His two friends were happy to have him there. Isaac saying something along the lines of not feeling too well. It was an out and out lie. But Stiles wasn't going to confront him about it. Not yet anyway.

Erica was in good and bright spirits. She relayed how she made a fast recovery. And that she was feeling much better. The young woman had a glow to her, eyes filled with something Stiles hadn't seen in her for a while. He likened it to hope. A thing that Erica had been searching for. More so, she steered the conversation towards Boyd, and the flowers he had brought her. She went slightly red in the face, talking of how he sat with her, just staying there. They talked for a while. About everything and nothing. It had ended with him asking her on a date. Stiles remarked on the awkwardness of being asked out while in the hospital. She said that it didn't matter, that she still had a date. Then she demanded that he help her pick out the perfect outfit for the upcoming date. He swallowed thickly, dreading the idea of another shopping trip.

The spent the next hour, trying to relax into a routine that fit them. They put the Hale's entertainment system to good use, playing some movie each of them had seen a thousand times over. It was redundant, but good. Erica laid herself across Stiles' lap, settling on his thighs. Isaac sat on the floor, head on his knees. It was a certain closeness that he hadn't felt before. A means in which he was with other people. Isaac and Erica didn't seem bothered by it. Not really. In fact, Erica actually dozed off before Stiles could ask why she was at the Hale's to begin with. It didn't matter that much, as long as she was happy. And here, with Isaac, she was. The two of them had been getting closer, becoming more and more comfortable with calling each other friend. It was nice, the two of them finding a place in a world that had all but ignored them. Stiles found himself slowly getting there as well.

Things had been getting better with Scott. They were spending more time together. Allison didn't flinch away from him whenever he got close. Lydia hadn't slapped him again. And Jackson was less of a douche. It was good. He still on the bench for lacrosse. But he participated in the workouts and such. Running drills and helping coach make new plays. Things were getting back to normal. Making their way back to what it was before Scott discovered popularity. Isaac and Erica still weren't part of that. The two of them were a separate part of his life, away from Scott and the others. He wanted them to be a part of it. For them to be a collective. But it was a far off dream. Isaac maybe could be a part of their group. He was on the team after all. But his tendency to hide away and remain quiet was a hindrance. Erica was still the butt of many jokes, trying to deal with it as best she could. But Stiles had hope for them. It was all he had really.

They laid there, watching the movie. It rolled into credits, the two of them fast asleep against Stiles. It was a funny thing but a good one. They were comfortable. Relaxed. More so than he had ever seen them. He was still leery of Derek, and how Isaac had reacted around him. That he had lied about not feeling well. But it wasn't enough. Not yet. If there was something to find. He was going to find it. And in the process, blow the scowl of Derek Hale's face.

(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)

Derek was slightly on edge. Just as he had expected, Erica took the offer of the bite with little to no hesitation. The young woman wanted to be rid of her illness and to be able to move on with her life. She, like Isaac, took to is beautifully. It had only been a few days, but she was acclimating well. The issue of turning wasn't going to be a problem just yet. But her instincts were good. Erica recognized Isaac as pack straight out of the gate. The two of them had already shared a previous bond, which did help. When Cora arrived is when things got a tad dicey. She was Laura's beta, with Erica being his. Being newly turned meant the instinct to protect the alpha was in overdrive. She felt threatened by Cora's presence. It took some explaining, but he had gotten through to her.

Isaac was another issue. In his own way. He was naturally protective of Erica from the start. Now, with the both of them being wolves, he refused to leave her side. It made things somewhat complicated. The young woman had been spending every possible moment at the house since she was turned. Isaac was thrilled for it. Derek, not so much. Isaac was the recently discovered victim of abuse. Erica had just gotten out of the hospital. If they spent too much time away from their usual places, people were bound to notice. And they did. Stiles had shown up out of nowhere, arriving at the house unannounced. It took Derek by surprise. Namely because of how Tristan reacted. His nephew went baralling towards him on his tiny little legs. Apparently overjoyed to see him. Stiles had picked him up, letting Tristan scent mark him. Even if he didn't fully realize what was happening.

Cora was less enthused with meeting him. She was warry of humans ever since the fire. Peter had managed to save her from the flames. But it had left a lasting impression on her. Laura had barely managed to convince her to go back to school. To return to a semi-normal life. In the end, Cora agreed. But she made no friends. Held no roots in New York. Not really anyway. There were people she associated with, kept in contact. But there was always a certain distance she kept, making sure to never get too close. Derek knew that it was because of what he had brought about on their family. He apologized once, and Cora shrugged it off as not mattering in the slightest. He knew otherwise.

When Isaac and Erica realized Stiles was in the house, they reacted the way Derek expected. The both of them, being freshly turned wolves, embraced their friend whole heartedly. Stiles, being human, didn't quite understand the excitement. But he endured their affections with grace, allowing them to hug him. Derek, wanting to make sure that Tristan didn't get upset, took the boy away. Giving some meager excuse about needing to put him down for a nap. Stiles had looked at him with something akin to suspicion. Derek tried to brush it off. Cora didn't let him.

She came in Tristan's room, just as he was setting up some of the boy's building blocks. She stood in the doorway, arms crossed. Face, blank as a sheet. Derek knew that she wasn't happy with having to relocate back after so many years. More so that the rest of Laura's pack had yet to arrive. The final nail in the coffin was the presence of Isaac and Erica in the house. Their instincts told them to be warry and borderline hostile towards her. She didn't appreciate it very much. More so, was the matter of Stiles. Derek had given thought of offering the bite. But there was something there that made him hesitate. Something that told him to wait.

With Isaac, it had been a matter of offering the boy power. A means in which he could always defend himself from others. To never again be placed in a position where he was at risk of being hurt. With Erica, it had been freedom and confidence. Freedom from her epilepsy. Freedom from the hospital. Freedom from the fear that loomed over her head like a dark cloud. Derek wasn't sure what he could offer Stiles. The boy was charismatic and strong. He had knocked Isaac's father on his ass to get to the other boy. A teenager against a grown man was nothing to turn one's nose up at. He was protective and fiercely concerned about his friends. But there was a grounded independence about him. He had friends, but he didn't rely on them very much. From what Derek could tell anyway. Pack stuck together. Always and forever. Stiles showed signs of isolating his problems, never allowing anyone else in. Derek knew that was an issue. As did Cora.

"If you're not going to turn him, it'll become a problem. Especially with those two puppies of yours."

"They're not puppies, Cora."

"Whatever. Deal with it. That kid isn't stupid. I saw his face when you came in the room. How they reacted to your presence. He doesn't know yet, but he will. Given enough time."

Cora was right. Stiles was many things. Loud. Gangly. Slightly obnoxious. But he was also smart. In more ways than one. Derek knew that given the chance, he would discover the truth of them. He didn't intend for it to happen. So the alpha let his betas watch a movie, falling asleep against their friend. Stiles excused himself after the credits had rolled through. He left smelling of Derek's betas. Their scents mingling with his own, making him feel like pack. Even if he wasn't. Erica and Isaac were sad to see him go. But happy that he was able to be there in the first place. Derek didn't want to ruin it. But he didn't know Stiles. And he wasn't going to risk his pack. Not again.

When he gave the order that Stiles wasn't to come back here, the two of them tried to protest. He glared them into submission without meaning to. He didn't want to be that kind of alpha. But Stiles was a risk they couldn't afford. And they had to realize that. Derek had already seen his family destroyed. Now, he was trying to rebuild his life as best he could. Isaac and Erica were a small part of that effort. And as much as he thought Stiles would make a good wolf, he knew that he couldn't be a part of their lives. Not while he had any say in the matter.


	9. Chapter 9

Stiles silently cursed every being friends with Scott. If it wasn't for him, he would've never joined the lacrosse team. Never would've been subjected to Coach's tireless drills. His favorite today was laps. He had run five of them already. His legs and chest were on fire. Muscles screaming out in protest. Coach was making sure that they were pushing their limits. Thankfully, Stiles never gave into peer pressure and started to smoke. It would've been a lot worse. But still, Coach was screaming at them to go faster. Needless to say, it was all a rather large load of bullshit. Though he did have a spectator.

Erica was in the stands, eying him like a cat. That trademark grin across her face. Boyd was there with her. Ever since their date, things had been going well. He took her to the most cliché dinner and a movie. Erica had loved every minute of it. They had been inseparable ever since. Boyd was benefiting from it as much as Erica was. He sat at lunch with Stiles as the others. As often as he could. Isaac to. He had somehow managed to find speed and coordination and was doing excellently on the field. The three of them were close. Closer than expected.

Even though Erica was dating Boyd, she touched Isaac a lot. A hand over the shoulder. A kiss on the cheek. Altogether affectionate. More so than most friends. She was the same with Stiles. Every time they saw each other, the young woman wrapped around him like a python. Boyd never said anything. In fact, he was getting to be rather tactile himself. Never quite as huggy as Erica. But a clap on the back, or a brush of the shoulders. It didn't make much sense to Stiles. But he put up with it anyway. Cora was another matter.

The young woman was essentially the female version of Derek. Dark, brooding, and relatively silent. She never said much whenever he saw her. They only shared one class, but did have the same lunch period. He tried on many separate occasions to get her to open up. But she never did. There was just that stony silence, permeating the air. Every time he sat with her at lunch, she never objected. But she didn't seem too happy with Isaac, Erica, and Boyd. There was a certain tension the three of them held for her. Isaac kept his eyes downcast. Boyd never even looked her way. Erica, well…Erica glared daggers. Her words were sweet and tender. But the look she gave Cora might as well have been lethal. The feeling was mutual. Cora was just as cold towards them as they were to her. Stiles never asked. Not his place. There was enough drama in his life as it is. He didn't need to add whatever was going on between the four of them.

Scott and Allison were having their own problems. Her father was adamant about meeting him. Allison, not so much. Scott didn't see a problem with it. But underneath her white toothed smile and bouncy curls, Allison was a lioness. She didn't back down. The two of them were in the on and off again stage of the relationship. One day, they weren't speaking. The next, holding hands every possible moment. It was absolutely sickening to behold. Scott was over the moon for this girl. Sending sappy teenage love poetry texts to each other. It was awful and hilarious in the same moment. Stiles couldn't help feel but just a little sorry for his friend. But only a little. Maybe in time, he could find himself less nauseated about it all.

Today, the both of them were being punished. Scott had been named co-captain alongside Jackson. They had went out the arcade in celebration. Coach had a much different idea in mind. And it didn't involve anything fun. In celebration, Coach had ordered a furious set of drills and double practices. It was going to be a long afternoon. The laps were just the first part. Stiles knew what came next. Defensive runs. He was by no means muscular, or large. But he could take a hit. For someone as uncoordinated as he was, the young man possessed a surprisingly talent of being able to endure tackle. Jackson liked to test it often. But the relentless drills had built his stamina to professional grade. Nine times out of ten, he took his tackler down with him. Jackson was not pleased with this.

Coach blew the whistle, signaling them to form the lineup. Stiles was paired with Danny. The two of them were similar in height. But Danny had more brawn. Stiles' advantage was his limbs. He had longer arms and legs, giving him better footing and reach. His teammates hadn't ever considered that into their calculations. He knocked them down as often as he got knocked down. Erica cheered for him every time someone went to the ground. Isaac halfheartedly waved at her every time she did. Boyd was as still and silent as ever. All in all, it was a good practice. He was slowly but surely improving. Part of him wondered if his dad would show up to any of the upcoming games. There may be a chance for him to play. If only a slim one.

It was part of the reason he had joined the team in the first place. For so many years, he was just a spastic kid with good grades. Nothing worthy of mentioning or such. He wanted to make his father proud. To make him happy. To show that he could be a good son. He trained his ass off at every practice. Until sweat covered his skin. Until his legs were ready to give out. But he was never good enough. Coach neve put him on the field. Maybe, this time around, he'd finally get the chance.

Practice ends with the screeching of Coach's whistle. Stiles is ready to drop. Scott seems as vibrant as ever. Smiling that goofy smile of his. And then, he wasn't. His face contorted, in pain. He doubled over, panicking, trying to breathe. But no air could get into his lungs. Asthma attack. And a bad one. Scott was well overdue. He hadn't had one in months. The new medicine he was taking had saw to that. But now, he was on the ground. Slowly turning blue.

Several people were already calling 911. Stiles was by his friend's side, trying to keep him calm. Keep him from panicking further. The ambulance arrived quickly enough, the paramedics loading Scott into the back. Stiles hopped in, ignoring the pointed stares. No way in hell he was going to wait and drive to the hospital. He texted Melissa as they barreled down the road. They had placed an oxygen mask over his face. Trying to keep him alive. The doctors would give him an epinephrine shot once they got to the hospital. They just had to get there first.

When they arrived, there was a flurry of activity. Nurses hauling Scott out, gurney being rushed down the hall. The doctor on call for the ER came rushing up, spouting orders. Stiles was held back, prevented from seeing his friend. It took everything he had not to push through. He came rather close to punching one of the male nurses. But, he abstained for the sake of his friend. He would be fine. Melissa would be with him soon, and she would make sure her son got the best possible treatment.

He sat down in the lobby, trying his best to stifle the panic coiling in his belly. Stiles hated this place. Far too many terrible things happened here. Too much death and suffering. Pain radiating out of the rooms like a siren call for the Reaper to come knocking. For a place of healing, it was surprisingly grim. But none more so than when his mother was here.

The dementia came out of nowhere. Sudden and onset. One day she was find. The next, her memories had started to slip away. It was hell. And that was putting it nicely.

The doctors had given a terminal diagnosis. There was nothing they could do. Nothing that they could treat. This disease was the kind that you stared in the face and beg for reprieve. In short, all they could do was wait for her to die. The first two months were the easiest. She stayed home, where everything was familiar. Where everything had a place. It was a safe space. The pictures on the wall brought comfort. The feel of polished wooden floors soothed her confusion. Until it didn't. The simplest things agitated her. The closing of a door too loudly. Running water where she had forgotten she was washing dishes. Setting off fits of panic and anger. When she asked who Stiles was, he had to remind her that he was her son. She never believed him. She shouted that she didn't have kids. That she never wanted them. It broke his heart each and every time.

When the fits of anger started to outweigh the fits of panic, she was admitted back into the hospital. He was standing outside, holding his stuffed elephant when the ambulance arrived to take her away. There was little else they could do. That was the only real option. So, every day after school, Stiles came to see her. She still didn't believe that he was her son. The sheriff and Melissa were the only two people that she recognized. Stiles was okay with it. It was the disease talking, not his mother. Then, it got worse. She grew fearful of him. His mother would fly into blind rages, charging and thrashing at him. Screaming terrible things no child should ever have to hear from a parent. The doctors had to restrain her. Then, in the end, they had to sedate her. She died in a drug induced sleep, away from the knowing world.

And on that day, part of Stiles died with her.

Her funeral was in the rain. The heavens themselves seemingly crying. Stiles certainly was. His father stood, rigid and silent. Hand wrapped tightly around Stiles'. The pastor said pretty words of God and the afterlife. Then, they lowered her into the ground. And that was it. She was gone. Buried under six feet of earth, never to be seen again. It left Stiles with a profound hatred of the hospital.

Scott had been in and out over the years. His asthma always getting worse in the winter. When the new medicine was prescribed, they had been hopeful that it would no longer be an issue. But it was. And he had come close to the brink. And all Stiles could do was wait. It too, was hell.

He texted Isaac, telling him what happened. Asking if he was going to stop by the hospital. The reply was quick and concise. He wasn't. Stiles asked if he could come over afterwards. There was an aching in his chest. A pain that didn't belong. He needed a friend. Isaac said he was busy helping Laura's family settle in. So, he texted Erica. She was concerned about Scott on principal. But she had already made plans with Boyd. They were going on another date. Possibly more. Stiles tried his best not to be mad at her. It was a failing effort. He needed them, but they were all too busy with their lives to be concerned. So he put his phone away and waited to see what the doctors would say. Judging from past experience, it was going to be a while. But it was okay. He had nothing but time.

(*)(*)(*)(*)

Derek was on the verge of a mental breakdown. The rest of Laura's pack was arriving from New York and LA this evening. There was a lot to do. Most of them would be staying at a house they had purchased near their own. She didn't want the same animosity that Cora was giving off radiating through the home. It was a lot to deal with. There were registration forms to fill out. For the adults and the children. There were seven kids, from 2 to 14. The little ones had to be enrolled into daycare. The others had to be registered for school. He had agreed to help, but he was toeing the line of his sanity. He was still dealing with adding Boyd to the pack.

Erica had brought up the idea less than two weeks after she had been turned. She and Isaac were still reeling from their first full moon. As expected, the two of them had to be chained in the basement. Away from the rest of the world. It hadn't been easy. In that state, even Derek had trouble controlling them. And he was the freaking alpha. The first few hours were the hardest. With them clawing at the air, snapping their teeth together. It was the aggressive stage. The one that proceeded directly after it was even worse. The mourn like stage. Where every part of the being was screaming at them to go outside and run beneath the moon. To feel the earth beneath their feet. The wind in their hair. Derek couldn't let them not yet. They were a long ways off from that. But how they responded towards the end is what surprised him the most.

Isaac was on the verge of tears. Trying to keep his composure. Erica was the same. When they called out for Stiles, Derek's breath caught in his chest. There were numerous people they could've called for. Isaac could've called for Derek or Laura. Erica could've called for her parents or Boyd. But the two of them had called for Stiles. The simple human boy who had no idea who they really were. Derek pondered the meaning behind that. What kind of connection they shared. The intimacy of it. Wolves called for the ones that brought them peace. Or happiness. Stiles was an enigma in that sense. That he had affected, not one, but both of Derek's betas. He asked them about it when the sun started to rise.

The sheepishly looked away, turning red in the face. Isaac had something about Stiles making him feel safe. Erica said that she felt the same. That the two of them knew that whenever Stiles was around, nothing was going to hurt them. As if he could repel the devil himself. It was fascinating and terrifying in the same moment. That this human had that much sway over his betas. It was a dangerous thing. They felt drawn to him. Loyal to him. They felt like he was pack. But he wasn't. Stiles wasn't a wolf and Derek didn't intend to make him one. It was too much of a risk. For many reasons.

Namely, he was the son of the sheriff. He if was turned, it would've required him to spend far too much time at the house. With Derek teaching him everything he needed to know. About control. About his new instincts. About everything it was to be a wolf. It wouldn't have gone unnoticed. That, and there was the manner of Stiles' personality. He was a caregiver, and a protector. But he was also fiercely independent of others. He would be your friend. But he wouldn't let you in. Derek shared in that sentiment. He had built plenty of walls for himself after Kate. It made from some very harsh struggles after they moved to New York. He didn't have the time or patience to train a wolf that wasn't willing. And Stiles would've been just that.

Boyd was the opposite. He jumped at the opportunity to be turned. Took to the lessons with a boundless sort of glee. He loved it. Reveled in it. To say nothing of how Erica felt with her boyfriend added to the pack. Laura started calling the three of them the musketeers. Cora just sneered and made snide comments. Derek tried his best to be the alpha his betas needed. Which is why he was more than a little surprised that he found Isaac and Erica trying to sneak out.

He didn't even need to scent them to tell they were upset. It was more than visible. Anxiety rolled off them in waves. Pouring out of them, thickening the air with its pungent odor. He didn't even need to guess what was wrong. There was only one reason that they would be this way. Something had happened with Stiles. Or in this case, happened with one of his friends. Scott, as he was called, suffered an asthma attack on the field. He was rushed to the hospital with Stiles in tow. The two of them begged to leave, to go and see their friend. Derek refused. It was too much of a risk. Boyd was still learning control and the house needed to be set in order for Laura's betas. There was too much to do. And they were needed here.

Isaac gave him the most pitiful look he could manage. Erica ducked her head and whined softly. But Derek didn't budge. He was firm on the matter. Seeing Stiles was too much of risk when they were this upset. Isaac suggested that he could come over, in case he needed a friend. Derek refused that suggestion straight out of the gate. Stiles wasn't stupid. And he had heeded Cora's warning regarding him. Given enough time, the boy would discover what they were. And Derek couldn't guarantee that they reaction would be a good one. Stiles may not have been a hunter. But he was still the son of the sheriff. And that was just as dangerous.

In the end, he put his betas to work. Telling them to give Stiles some generic excuse. They complied whilst sulking. But it did give Derek another idea. This Scott kid was rather like Erica. Ill and fragile. With a condition that could very well end his life at a moment's notice. Asthma was easily cured with the bite. And with how things were going with the other three, Scott would acclimate to the pack in no time. It was a thought, if a slightly dangerous one. He knew that there was a good chance that Scott would accept. But that still left the matter of Stiles. Turning another person who he was associated with. Derek pushed it to the back of his mind as he unloaded yet another box. He could worry about it tomorrow.


	10. Chapter 10

Stiles was never one to ignore what he saw. As a hyperactive teenager with a chronic problem of overthinking, it was a habit to investigate things. And in this instance, it happened to be his friends. The distance Isaac and Erica had been keeping with him was growing as of late. They almost never saw each other outside of school. When they did, it was brief and concise. Always less than an hour. Almost never at the Hale house either. For some reason, Isaac always had a means in which they shouldn't be over there. It made Stiles' suspicions towards Derek magnify. Erica was similar.

She was dodgy and concealed. Hiding something that eluded Stiles, despite his best efforts. She and Boyd were doing well. Affectionate was ever. Goo-goo eyed and smiles. But there was something underneath all of it that didn't make sense. Erica was always lively and forward. Never mincing words or holding back. Now, she was subdued. Whenever the topic of the Hales came up, she became tight lipped. More so, out of the blue, Cora had become amicable towards her and Isaac. While Stiles was happy for it, he didn't trust it. Teenagers were petty, vindictive creatures on a good day. The fact that Cora had started being so nice was cause of suspicion. As bad as it sounded. Then there was the matter of the Hales themselves.

Stiles had intruded upon them several times in recent weeks. Never announced and never with warning. Every time bared the same result. Isaac or Cora would answer the door, surprised to see him. Though they never turned him away. He would spend time with Isaac. Be it a study session, or mindlessly playing video games. Either way, Cora was never around. She would retreat upstairs, away from the two of them. And she would always give Isaac a curious look just before he disappeared. Derek was another matter. He was always tense when Stiles was around. Never really saying anything. Not in words anyway.

His entire body seemed to coil in on itself. Tension gripping the muscles of his body. Like he was waiting for something. Almost as if he was afraid. Stiles didn't like it. Nor did he like how Isaac was around Derek. Whenever the two of them were in the same room, Isaac fell completely silent. Head bowed, eyes trained to the floor. Every single time. As if in fear. Which Stiles assumed. Once, Isaac had been laughing, and the moment Derek walked in, he stopped. Abruptly and completely. Derek never said a word. But Isaac cowered all the same. It further cemented his thoughts towards the older man.

Laura was the opposite. She was always happy to see Stiles. Face lighting up with radiance, taking him into a crushing hug as greeting. He liked her. Tristan shared in the sentiment. The young boy always giggled when Stiles would pick him up. The three year old never failed to fall asleep in his arms. No matter what they were doing. Laura laughed and said that Stiles would make a good parent if he could get Tristan to fall asleep so easily. Derek didn't seem to enjoy it very much. The older man would always glare daggers at him, eyes filled with mistrust and anger. If only for a moment. Then, he would saunter off, never saying anything. As always.

Things didn't improve when Stiles tried to confront Isaac. He had tried to bring up the subject as discreetly and as gently as possible. But his friend was tight lipped. He never said a word against Derek or any of the other Hales. Including their extended family. They had been over once when Stiles had dropped by. Most of them were like Derek. Regarding him with suspicion and something a tad darker. They lived in a separate house, slightly closer to town. There was a lot of them. The file he had looked at on the Hales hadn't said anything about there being this many of them in California. In fact, none of them had even lived near the west coast. They visited Laura and Derek often. The lot of them kept their distance, never getting too close to him while he was in the house. But like Tristan, all of the kids loved him. Especially the young ones.

He often found himself trapped under a pile of tiny bodies, squirming and laughing. Despite always being massively uncomfortable, he enjoyed nonetheless. Even if their parents weren't too pleased with it. Gabriel, the youngest boy loved bouncing on his chest. He failed to realize that three year olds were a bit big for that. The twins, Della and Marie, liked to cling to his legs as he walked. Forcing him to stomp as he went about the living room. Even the older kids enjoyed his company. They would ask him questions regarding their homework. It always fun, even if their parents did always cut the time short. That too, aroused thoughts of something being not quite right with the Hales.

He tried to confront Erica about Isaac's situation. But she too was closed mouth on the matter. Head bowed, eyes averted. Saying nothing. She always found a way to change the subject before Stiles pressed any further. It was then that he was determined to find something he could bring to his dad. Something that would prove that Derek was not who they thought he was. But it wasn't easy. Isaac had managed to hide his father's abuse for years. Now was no different.

Stiles paid closer attention to him in the locker room. Looking for signs. There were differences in bruises caused by lacrosse and bruises caused by fists. He's seen enough domestic abuse cases to know that certain patterns meant certain things. But Isaac never had any. No discoloring or signs of trying to conceal it. There was no affected gait, as if he had been beaten or whipped. Stiles even went to so far as to look at the boy's hands. Less Derek take a page from 's book. There was nothing. Nothing that was concreate or definitive. It didn't deter him. But there was something else that was bothering him. And it did take a considerable amount of his attention.

Scott had made a full recovery after his asthma attack on the field. His O2 levels were good. No sign of inflation in the airways or his lungs. The doctor's had adjusted his medicine and told him to take it easy. Everything seemed fine. Until he broke up with Allison. It came out of nowhere. For no discernable reason. She hadn't been ignoring him. Hadn't brushed him off. And to Stiles knowledge, she hadn't cheated on him. So when he called things quits, Stiles was suspicious and surprised in the same moment. Allison was a mess. Crying for days. Sobbing into Lydia's shoulder. Scott kept his distance in the cafeteria. Now, he no longer sat with the other lacrosse players. He sat with Stiles, Isaac, Erica, and Boyd. And oddly enough, the four of them were….usually close.

Scott had never been aware of any of them. He knew Isaac by proximity. Erica and Boyd weren't even on his radar. But after the breakup with Allison, he was lovey dovey and over the moon friendly. As if he had known them forever. Which he hadn't. Stiles asked him about it. The answer was the Scott wanted to make new friends. Not just a bunch of jocks. It was a half assed lie and Stiles knew it. Scott was never cruel or unkind. But he wasn't the type to go out and hang around with anybody. Stiles knew that well enough. They had been friends for ten years. But now, there was a distance growing between them again.

Stiles made more than one attempt to spend time with Scott. But nine times out of ten, there was always some excuse. Some reason that he wasn't going to make it. There wasn't anything obvious going on, until he saw Scott getting in a car with Cora. There was no way in hell the two of them were a couple. Not a chance in hell. Cora was beautiful and strong. But she was also icy and closed off. The exact opposite of Allison. Stiles knew that they were going to the Hale house. Melissa had never allowed Allison over unless she was there. Erica had made her way over to the Hale house as well. Along with Boyd. Stiles tried not to feel too torn up about it. He was still worried about Isaac living with the Hales.

Even though he had no real proof, he relayed his suspicions to his father. Telling him everything that he saw. Everything that he had noticed over the last two months. The sheriff listened and nodded, waiting until Stiles was finished. When he was done, he got the answer he suspected he would get. There was nothing that could be done, no means in which Derek could be arrested. Not unless there were obvious signs of abuse or Isaac came forward. In short, there was nothing that Stiles could do but sit back and watch. He didn't feel good about it.

Eventually, the time he spent with his friends was spent almost exclusively at school. In fact, he saw Lydia more often than he saw the others. She seemed amicable to his company. Some days, they studied for the AP classes. Others, she would force him to watch the Notebook on repeat. And there were the days when she would obscurely text him out of the blue, telling him she needed company. There would always be an open bottle of wine and mascara tracks down her face. It always involved her parents. They were going through a divorce, and her father had already moved out. He was trying to buy Lydia's affections, keeping her in good graces and such. It was the only real time he ever paid attention her.

Cold and somewhat conceded, but Lydia wasn't made out of stone. She was hard only on the surface. But if you dug deeper, there was a softness there that others had a hard time recognizing. She was like that with Jackson. He was loud mouthed, crude, and not so nice. But she was kind and tender with him. And the douche was the same around her. Stiles never asked why she never called him. Why she didn't trust her boyfriend with her troubles. He didn't need to. Sometimes, the people you cared about the most were the worst ones to talk to about your problems. Maybe that was the case with Isaac. If so, it was going to be a while before he opened up about what was going on with Derek. If there was anything going on to begin with. Stiles knew there was. He just had to prove it.

(*)(*)(*)(*)

Derek was going to murder Laura. Slowly and painfully. Leaving no trace of her to find. He had run out of patience concerning his betas. Isaac was closing himself in his room. Erica refused to answer his calls. And Boyd was being, well, himself. The three of them were sulking. Not to say the least of Scott. Derek had approached him in the hospital, explaining what he and the others were. And what he was offering. All of the risks. And all of the possible rewards. The young man was intrigued. He accepted without really understanding the consequences. His girlfriend was a complication. Laura had a shaky truce with the Argents. Dating the current matriarch wasn't the best of ideas. Scott tried to make excuses. That he could hide it. Derek didn't him much room to move on the matter.

The young wolf moped for days. Rarely showing up for training on time. And devolving into a state of extreme depression. The same as the others. And then there was the matter of Stiles. He was showing up, unannounced, at any given time. Laura's betas were less than thrilled. She assured them that he was harmless and their secret was safe. The betas' children threw themselves at the young man after seeing him with Tristan. He seemed to have a special way with wolf kids. It made a certain part of Derek rumble in a very unfamiliar way. He shoved it down, burying under anger and frustration. Stiles was human. And Derek wasn't willing to take the risk of them being exposed. When he gave the order for his betas to limit their contact, the reaction was unanimous. And not in a good way.

The four of them protested, saying that Stiles was a part of their lives. A friend. Someone they relied on. The suggestion was made that he made into a wolf. For him to join the pack. Derek was on the fence about. There were plenty of qualities that would make Stiles a good fit. But just as many that would make him a bad one. There were too many variables to consider the risk. He'd been burned once before. He had no intention of enduring it a second time. And that of course, is when things got strange.

Cora, of all people, came to Stiles' defense. She advocated for the young man. Albeit in short and simple words. She described him as feeling safe. His sister had seen the way Stiles interacted with the kids. How he was by Isaac's and Erica's side. For the first time, in a long time, she trusted a human. Not with their secret. But enough for him to be around. Derek wasn't convinced. That's when Laura stepped in. And she did it in her usual fashion. After dinner, when her betas returned to the house, she found Derek on the porch. It would be the full moon soon. And Derek was preparing for having Scott on board this time around. The other three were very nearly grounded. Able to hold back the shift, keeping in check. Of course Laura chose that time to talk to him.

She sat down next to him, saying nothing for the longest time. It was her way of moving towards the actual conversation. She simply took his hand, and looked up at the stars. They did it a lot when they first moved to New York. Central Park was quiet at night. Very few people. It was one of the only places in that city of concreate they could be themselves. The first few months were the hardest. And some nights, they just needed to get outside. Breathe the open air and feel with cold night air. It was how they dealt with it. The profound loss of pack. After a while, Cora joined them. She would cry more often than not. Then, one day, she stopped. The young woman became stone hard and rigid. Unable to feel much of anything. She built a wall, just like Derek. Six years later, and he still hadn't forgiven himself.

Laura was the alpha they needed her to be. Strong, grounded. Assured of what she was doing. They built a new pack. And in a few short years, it was almost like it was before. But here, things were different. Derek wasn't taking in omegas or people who had willingly came to him. He was finding humans to turn. People who would benefit from the bite. React to it, and grow with it. The process was far more personal, far more intimate. And he was struggling. He wanted the best for his betas. But he also wanted to keep them safe. Stiles and Allison weren't being safe. That what's he felt. Laura had other ideas.

"You know Stiles is a good person, right?"

"So long as he thinks we're human."

"Fair, but debatable. They need him just as much as they need you. He was a part of their lives before they turned. You can't expect them to just abandon the kid." Derek focused on the word kid more than anything else. They were all so young. All so unlearned in the ways of the world. His betas were still tied to what made them human. What their old lives were. Now, they were wolves. And the world had changed in ways they were still trying to understand. It didn't make a lot of sense. But Stiles felt like a piece of that world. But Derek didn't know how he fit. How he would fall into place. And that's what was so terrifying. The young man defied explanation.

"What do you suggest I do?"

"One of two things. Offer him the bite. And if not that, let him become aware. Lead him into the fold." Laura said plainly.

"You think either one is a good idea?"

"Your betas love him. The kids love him. He's well liked all around. But I understand your fear. But a young man shouldn't be left in the dark. It'll destroy him. Even if you think it won't."

Derek was still thinking about it. What Stiles would be like as a wolf. But he hadn't considered what he would be like as a person who was merely aware. There were humans in their family. But they had been raised in the pack. Been around wolves their entire lives. It was far different than introducing someone who had no knowledge about the supernatural. That was a whole other level of risk. A risk that made him think of ash and fire and burning screams. Of multiple caskets being lowered into the ground. Of Cora crying her eleven year old self to sleep. Of Peter, trapped in a burned body, unable to properly heal. When the insurance people came with the claims. When Laura cashed them, using the money from their family's death to move across the country. Of the first two years of feeling so utterly alone. Where he blamed himself, every single night before he went to sleep. He wondered if Stiles was worth the risk. It was Derek's choice to make. Didn't mean that it was going to be an easy one.


	11. Chapter 11

Stiles was drunk. And not the good, fun, happy go lucky kind of drunk. He was nasty, nearly falling over, world spinning kind of drunk. All in thanks to his so called friends. They were really at fault here. The poor choices leading up to the night had been a culmination of two months' worth of fuckery. Now, it had come to a head. He was just riding the wave. And right now the wave was telling him to sit down and take it easy. He opted for taking a long pull from the bottle of whiskey instead. It burned just like all the other times he had done it that night. Still tasted terrible. But he kept on drinking. It was a shitty day after all.

He had woken up that morning, happier than in recent memory. It was going to be a good day. Stiles could feel it. His father was down in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. There was a spread of bacon, pancakes, and hash browns. His dad even went so far as to make the both of them an omelet. It was, of course, a welcome surprise to start off the day. They rarely got to spend mornings together anymore. With him being the sheriff, the hours were long and the gratitude low. Most days, he came home exhausted and barely conscious. Stiles understood of course. But today was his birthday. And his father had taken the time to make sure they would spend at least part of it together. It made the pancakes taste all the better.

They talked of what they might do for the evening, after he got home from school. Stiles didn't want to make any concreate plans. Just in case that one of the others might have something in mind. If that was the case, then he'd gladly invite his dad to come with them. But only time would tell. He opted to text the others and find out. But first, he was going to enjoy this breakfast for all it was worth. He wasn't like to have this much time with his dad in the morning for a while.

The drive to school was a good one. He caught every green light, never got stuck in traffic. Anything like that. Once he got there, Isaac bounded up, squeezing him in a tight hug. As he had taken to as of late, the other boy rubbed his face over Stiles chest. It was a weird way to say hello. If there ever was one. Erica wasn't far behind. Stiles could tell by the clicking of her heels. He grabbed him from the back, her arms like boa constrictors. There was a few moments where Stiles thought he wasn't going to be able to breathe. She laughed at his suffering. With Erica came Boyd, and his own manner of affection. It had evolved from a pat on the back to a sort of awkward half hug. Almost as if he was scared to be affectionate with a member of the same gender. Well, with Stiles anyway. Boyd was plenty touch feely with Isaac.

Cora was the real surprise. She actually said hello, with a real smile and everything. That's what threw Stiles off. She was amicable towards him. But in a distant sort of way. Not really giving him much attention, but not really ignoring him either. They day was leaning towards the strange. If in a good way. Scott was the last. He came up after walking away from Allison. The two of them had just got done talking. Properly talking for the first time in over a week. The both of them seemed level headed and calm. She wasn't crying. And Scott wasn't struggling to breathe. He greeted him with a quick hello and hug. As if everything was okay. So Stiles counted it was a win.

When the first bell rang, they all went off to their respective classes, knowing they'd see each other at lunch. It was rushed and a little odd that they separated so quickly. And not one of them had acknowledged that it was his birthday. Eh, it was fine. There was enough time in the day for it. There would be plenty more moments for them to have after school.

The day progressed quickly, every class seemingly ending just as it started. Stiles was thankful for it. When lunch rolled around, they met up at their usual table. There was a lot of chatter. About everything and nothing. Isaac seemed to be in a particularly good mood. He actually engaged in conversation rather than just idling in the background. Erica sat atop Boyd's lap, grinning wickedly. She was in as good a mood as Isaac was. Scott, decidedly less than.

Ever since the conversation with Allison earlier that morning, he had been tense and on the edge of something. Whatever it was, it wasn't good. Stiles tried to be diffuse the tension in his friend with his usual brand of humor. It was mildly successful. He seemed to respond better to Isaac than anyone else. Which was odd. But Stiles didn't look too much into it. It was his birthday and he was happy. And he was bound and determined to keep it that way. Even if Scott was being a bit of a sourpuss. The rest of them weren't down and out, so he certainly wasn't going to be.

When lunch ended, they went back to class, still giddy and laughing. In all the comradery, no one had wished him a happy birthday. Maybe they were planning a surprise party? That seems like something Erica would pull. Throwing together a last minute get together. Full of streamers and glitter and balloons. That cheesy, almost cliché party nonsense that didn't really have a place to begin with. Really? Because nothing says happy birthday like a plastic sack of someone's breath. Multiple plastic sacks of breath just bouncing around. The image was rather comical. Stiles laughed to himself as he went into the final class of the day.

It was Harris. The man was normally a raging cock nozzle, but today was different. Ever since Stiles presented the recorded conversation, his chemistry teacher was surprisingly mellow. And not just towards him. Towards the rest of the class as well. It seems a lesson in humility had served him well. The equations for the experiment were still hard to decipher. But Stiles loved a challenge. It wouldn't have been fun if it was easy. Lydia just smiled at him as only they would really grasp the material.

Towards the end of class, he felt his phone buzz, alerting him to a text message. It was from Lydia. She was telling him happy birthday, seeing as she wasn't going to be able to see him after school. Her father was in town and apparently wanted to reconcile. Stiles understood. He text her back saying the compulsory thank you. Several minutes later, he got a text from Danny wishing him happy birthday. As well as the offer to use his fake ID to score him some booze should he need it. He replied to keep the offer open. There was no telling where the night was gonna go. The last one was from Jackson of all people. He made it abundantly clear that the only reason he was texting him was because Lydia told him to. It was still a surprise. Stiles responded by calling him a jackass and saying thank you.

When the final bell rang, Stiles sprang from his seat, ready to see what his friends had in store for him. Maybe there was going to be a surprise party after all. When he got outside to the parking lot, those hopes were dashed in their entirety. Isaac was getting into Cora's car. Erica and Boyd as well. Scott was on his bike, geared up to follow them. They were heading towards the Hale house. That was the only possibility. There was no way in hell Laura was going to allow a bunch of teenagers to throw a party at her place. She might have been a laid back person, sweet and kind of funny. But she was still an adult with a family. They had forgotten. They had forgotten his birthday. Hadn't even acknowledged it.

It was then and there that Stiles felt something wither and shrivel away inside of him. It was a long standing process, starting when his friends created distance between him. He could actually feel it. The way part of him just turned into nothingness, leaving a hollow place behind. It was the straw that broke the camel's back, so to speak. He didn't cry. He didn't scream. He just got in the Jeep and headed home. There wasn't much else he could do. There wasn't much else he wanted to do. The people who were supposed to care about him didn't. And that hurt. It hurt more than it had the right to. But that was life. It didn't pick and choose who got mowed down. Things were seemingly fair that way.

The house was empty when he got there. It didn't make him feel better. There was particular brand of loneliness that he felt himself saddled with. An all-consuming weight that bared down on his shoulders. Smothering the very essence of him. For a day that was supposed to be for him, it wasn't. Not in a good way at least. His friends were no longer his friends. They had, one by one, chosen themselves over him. And on the day of his 18th birthday of all days. At least his dad had remembered. At least they were going to be able to spend some time together. That's what Stiles thought anyway.

When he got the call, he knew it was nothing good. His father never called him from work. It was as he expected. There was a string of suspicious animal deaths just outside of Beacon Hills. And people were panicking. He was going to be working late. When the dial tone clicked out, so did Stiles. He wasn't even going to bother being upset. There was no point in it. Wasted energy on people who had forgotten about him. Except, being the masochist he was, he decided to text all of them asking what they were doing. The responses were all lies.

Isaac said he was hanging out with Scott, going over lacrosse drills. Which he wasn't. They did drills every practice to the point of mania. No way he was reviewing them outside of practice. Scott said he was working at the clinic. Which, he wasn't. He always had Tuesdays off. Erica and Boyd said they were on a date. Dinner and then a movie. Which, again, they weren't. Stiles didn't know what else he had expected. The lot of them had become rather adept at lying. About where they were. About what they were doing. Keeping Stiles in the dark all the way. It was special kind of hurt. One that happened rarely. But when it did, it sliced down past bone and straight into the soul. Leaving a mark that would never really go away. It was the second time that Stiles had felt it in his life. It hurt just as much as the last time.

He decided to take Danny up on his offer, asking him to get a bottle of something cheap and strong. When he got the confirmation, he headed over and picked it up. This was something he had every right to. Something that he had earned. Stiles stared down the brown paper bag and made a choice. It was last second and rushed, but he was going to the Hale house to confront his so called friends. He was going to make them answer for their lies.

He did his best to keep under the speed limit. The last thing that he needed was to be pulled over with a bottle of whiskey in his front seat. His dad wasn't going to be anywhere near happy with him when he found out. He was already planning to get drunk. Might as well keep the damage minimal. When he got to the house, Cora's car and Scott's bike was there. Just as he expected. He didn't even bother knocking. He just launched himself inside, straight towards the living room. They were all there, huddled on the couch, watching a movie. Their faces said it all. They had been caught in the lie. Stiles didn't care that he was intruding. Didn't care that he was invading someone's house. He was too pissed off to care. He was too pissed to apologize.

"Happy birthday to me." he said without meaning to. The lot of them reacted exactly the same. Their faces went pale, eyes blowing wide. Isaac actually whimpered a bit. The four of them stood, saying nothing. There wasn't anything that needed to be said. They had forgotten. And they had lied about what they were doing. Finding some excuse not to be around him. That was the truth of it. And Stiles accepted it. Erica moved to say something. Probably some generic, half ass apology meant to quell his anger. He cut her off before she could say anything.

"Fuck all of you." With that, he left. He tore out of the drive, away from the lies and heartache. Shifting the gears, he drove deeper into the preserve. The part that was forbidden to the public. But he didn't care. He didn't want to be found. He didn't want anyone near him. Stiles was already alone. Might as well enjoy it. After the Jeep was parked in a remote spot, he got out and popped the cap on the whiskey. The first taste was always the worst. Bitter and pungent on the front. Sour as hell on the end. It was foul and in no way pleasant. But it was strong and would do the job. He felt the burn in his stomach just as the first text message came through.

It was Isaac. Asking for him to come back. So that they could explain. Erica sent a similar text. Saying Catwoman needed her Batman. Scott just said he needed him. Boyd didn't say anything. Apparently, Stiles wasn't worthy of a text. He shut off his phone and went back to drinking. The first two hours were fuzzy and warm. A delightful haze of abandon that Stiles let himself fall into. Surely, drinking more would help. Turns out, it didn't. It coiled down in his belly, broiling and writhing. He felt sick. Anger burned at the back of his skull as the world became a distant and far off thing. He just kept drinking.

Before he knew it, the sun had set. The stars were out and the night was brisk. A good thing too. Apparently, whiskey made you sweat a lot. He was about three quarters of the way done when shit really hit the fan. Every last ounce that he had shoved away came crashing through. All the hurt form his friends lies. All the anger from him finding out. All the insecurities he had from never being good enough for anyone. It was too much. He launched the bottle way, propelling it into a tree. It shattered in a shower of glass and wasted alcohol. Probably for the best. He was pretty drunk. Drunk enough to cry anyway.

It wasn't loud or grotesque. It was quiet and subdued. There was no bodily shaking. There was no snot running down his face. They were just simple tears, coming of their own accord. It was of course that time when someone decided to show up. Or rather, several someones. It was Isaac, Erica, Boyd, and Scott. The four of them there, breathing heavy and visibly distressed. As if they had any right to be. As if they were somehow upset. It was a farce and an obvious one at that. Stiles wasn't going to fall for it. They of course remarked on how he was drunk. And why he was out here. Why he was doing this. Stiles' answer was simple and straight forward.

"Cause, errbody forgess me." he managed to slur. But it was no less true. His mother had forgotten him after the dementia took her. She actually forgot her own son. Worse still, she actually thought he was a demon sent from hell to kill her. Despite being only ten years old the time. She screamed horrible things at him. Things that no child should have to hear from their mother. His dad was no different. After they buried her, he spent most of his nights, buried in a bottle. Drinking away his pain. Just like Stiles was doing. On the good nights, he would just pass out at the table. On the bad ones, he would let Stiles know just how much he wasn't loved. That he was the reason his mother died. That his dad didn't want anything to do with him. And it was a recurring trend.

Scott forgot him all too easily when he got popular. When he got a pretty girlfriend. He left Stiles behind without a second thought given. Erica forget him when she found Boyd. He wasn't really mad at Boyd. They didn't know each other that well anyway. But Isaac forgetting him. That hurt. He tried his best to be a good friend. To be there when he felt he was needed. But apparently, no on needed him. Not anymore. Once they were through with him, once they got what they needed, people dropped Stiles off at the back of their mind. Never paying him so much as a spare thought. It was heartbreaking to think about. Even more so to say it aloud. Which he had.

The four of them were crying. Actual real life tears. Stiles didn't understand why. They weren't the ones being left in the dust. Tossed aside when they had no more use. There was no reason for them to cry. They hadn't earned it like he had. He was just about to comment on it when he lost his balance. Falling over into the damp ground. There was a sharp pain that shot up his hand and arms. Twigs cutting into his skin. The alcohol numbed most of it out. Besides, there was a lot worse pain the world. He was experiencing some of it now.

Scott and Isaac were by his side, frantic and on the verge of a panic. Their faces were funny looking. The brow all furrowed and lumpy looking. Hairy cheeks and something was wrong with their eyes. A bright, shining yellow. It stood out in the dark night air. Huh, things were getting weird again. He heard someone screaming into a phone, and another person rushing up from behind. The world span around and around. Along with his stomach. He turned just in time to vomit before someone called his name. Stiles didn't answer. He was too busy passing out cold.


	12. Chapter 12

Derek was familiar with the scent of blood. It came with the territory of being a werewolf. The first time he shifted, he panicked and ended up hurting himself. He was barely fourteen, aware that the change was coming. But so unprepared for what it actually entailed. When his claws drew themselves out for the first time, it felt like his fingers were on fire. Every cell in his body screamed at the power of the moon. He didn't mean to slice into himself, but he did anyway. His mother was there. With her soft voice and calming words. That night was a long one. But she was there through all of it, holding him until the worst had passed.

After that, blood became a far more well-known part of his life. They trained, day and night. Trying to master the shift. Of course, now that he was fully awakened, his healing kicked in. But there was always some blood before the wounds closed. Either his or his sparring partner. It was just the way things were. When he started training his betas, he became accustomed to their scents as well. Mostly, blood smelled the same from everyone. Sharp, metallic, and pungent. It wasn't a bad smell. But it wasn't one he cared for either. He'd had enough of it to last a hundred lifetimes. Which was why the scent of someone covered in it coming into the house had him launching downstairs.

Scott and Isaac were carrying an unconscious Stiles into the parlor. The young man's hand and arm were covered in scratches. Deep ones. There was a plethora of blood spattering along him. It had already started to dry. But that did nothing to dull the scent. Underneath the coppery tang, there was the sourness of alcohol. Stiles had been drinking. He had been drinking a lot. The fact that the young man hadn't poisoned himself was a miracle. Derek could hear the steady beating of his heart. By some means that remained unknown, he was going to be perfectly fine. The same could not be said for his betas.

Isaac and Erica were fully shifted. Scott was barely staying human. Boyd looked as if someone had shoved an iron rod up his spine. There was upset, and then there was this. Derek had never seen his betas this upset before. It had nothing to do with the full moon. There was something else going on here. Stiles wan injured, but in no danger of dying. Even the newest of wolves could tell that. When he asked what was wrong, he was surprised to find that Scott began screaming at him. About how it was all Derek's fault. How Stiles needed them and he wouldn't let their friend be anywhere close. Isaac mirrored the sentiment.

Erica was the one that explained things. That Stiles had messaged them all, asking for them to come over. They were to report to the house for the full moon. Even though they were all on the verge of perfecting the shift, Derek didn't want to take any chances. Each of them had given some kind of an excuse as to why they had to say no. And Stiles, in all his wit, had figured out that they were lying. He had shown up to the house, unannounced. Taking them all by surprise. They had forgotten that it was his birthday. That's why he had wanted them to come over.

When the moon had risen, they hadn't been able to hold back their concerns. Derek didn't think anything of it when they all took off into the preserve. Going after some unknown scent. He thought they had found a deer or something. Turns out, what they had found was Stiles. Drunk, crying, and stumbling. He had gone on about being forgotten by all the people in his life. Including them. How he wasn't mad. Because there wasn't anything special about him. That is what just the way things were. That's when he fell and hurt himself. And when they couldn't hold back the shift anymore. In their panic, they had brought Stiles to the house. Not knowing what else to do. Derek dialed Deaton's number, knowing full and well the man was asleep.

The emissary answered on the fifth dial tone, groggy and somewhat disgruntled. Derek gave him the gist of the situation and asked him to come over. He said to give him fifteen minutes before hanging up. The others weren't soothed by the call. Derek had explained the importance of an emissary as part of their training. Deaton was going to have a look at Stiles, making sure he was okay. Again, it did little to soothe them. Derek was now beginning to feel on edge himself.

He had decided to tell Stiles about them. What they were, what their family was. It was an unprecedented risk. But the young man was a part of his betas' lives and wasn't going anywhere. Not anytime soon. He was also setting up a meeting with the Argents. To settle the tension between Scott and Allison. Chris may have been the official leader of what remained of them. But Allison still held a considerable seat of power. He wanted to make sure the air was clear between them. Turns out, he had decided that a little too late. Stiles had fallen of the rails. Despondent and bereft, he had taken to a night of drunkenness to absolve himself from his misery. Derek felt guilty for that.

After he managed to calm the others down, he offered them each an apology. Promising to explain everything to Stiles when he woke up. The four of them breathed a sigh of relief, thanking their alpha. It didn't stop them from clinging to Stiles' side. Laura came down, with an unsettled Tristan in her arms. Wonder just what the hell was going on. Derek explained things as best he could. Knowing full and well that he was going to get a lecture come the morning. His sister just sighed and set Tristan down. The little wolf stumbled over towards the passed out Stiles, laying down next to him. The betas did the same. Derek didn't have the heart to move them. They could have a few minutes before Deaton arrived. After he was done, he'd move Stiles to one of the spare bedrooms so he could rest properly.

The emissary arrived just shy of half an hour later, a small black bag in tow. He bypassed the distressed betas and followed Derek up the stairs. He stood guard as Deaton did his work, keeping the others out of the room. It was a tedious process. There was plenty of mud, rock, and twig pieces to clean out of the scratches. Stiles never woke up throughout the entire thing. He did wince once or twice, too drunk to really comment on the matter. Deaton ignored the faint whines of the wolves just outside the door. After about an hour, the man came out, saying Stiles would be fine. The wounds were cleaned and properly bandaged. There was no need for stitches.

Derek let his betas in the room once Deaton had given the all clear. The four of them piled around Stiles, laying down next to him as gently as possible. Erica fetched a bucket and put in beside Stiles head in case his stomach decided to evacuate itself. Let it never be said that his betas weren't clever. At least Derek had that going for him.

Deaton didn't even bother addressing the fact that there was a drunk teenager in his house. Or that he was injured. Or that he was surrounded by his betas. Who were clearly worried. The man seemed to already know every detail as if he had experienced it himself. More than likely, Laura had talked to him at some point. His sister was sneaky like that. Derek directed the man towards the kitchen, where there was a pot of coffee brewing. Deaton took his black, and sipped idily. Saying nothing all the while.

"So, what's your adivice?"

"Depends on what you're asking, really." Deaton said.

"The kid needs to know. But I don't want to offer him the bite. Not yet."

"Why not?"

"Maybe because he's the sheriff's son. Or the fact that he has a tendency to bottle his feelings. Or the fact that he seems to have self-destructive tendencies." Stiles was all of those things. And more. But Derek didn't want him to be a wolf. There wasn't anything that Stiles would gain from being pack. Better access to his friends maybe. But he wasn't ill like Scott or Erica. Wasn't abused and downtrodden like Isaac. He wasn't isolated like Boyd. Granted, he had gone a drinking binge out of loneliness. But now that he was here, and most likely saw them shifted, Derek didn't have much of a choice. He never had to reveal himself to someone without turning them. So Stiles was something of an enigma.

"Might I offer a suggestion?"

"Shoot." Derek said exasperated.

"Tell Stiles the truth of yourself and the others. Offer your story and let the others do the same."

"So spill my darkest secrets?"

"Not quite. But tell him enough so that he'll understand your actions. He is a very bright young man. Impulsive and hyper. But not irrational. He'll listen if you let him."

Deaton wasn't wrong. Stiles was, in fact, a very good listener. Whenever he was around the kids, who never stopped yammering away, he did his best to be a part of each conversation. Never ignoring them or trying to phase out of whatever they were talking about. Derek figured that it would be the same come the morning time. Only the matters at hand would be of a more serious kind. They were werewolves after all.

"Stay until the morning, if you can. Stiles needs to be eased into this. And you're the best one for the job."

"You always did sell yourself short Derek."

Deaton moved towards the living room where Laura was waiting for him. No doubt needing advice for her own pack. Stiles was going to learn the truth of them in just a few short hours. This affected Laura's pack just as much as it did his. There was going to be no easy way to do it. But at this point it had to be done.

Derek made his way upstairs, towards the room where Stiles and the others were. The five of them were sound asleep. There was less sourness to Stiles' scent now. The worst of the drunkenness had passed. He would still have one wicked hangover when he woke up though. It was then that Derek had a curious sensation crawl along his spine. It wasn't bad or telling him to be wary. It was telling him to protect. He brushed his fingertips over Stiles arm, right where the scratches were. There was still a spattering of pain left. He drew it into himself, watching as the black lines traced up his hand. The young man shifted ever so slightly, mumbling something that Derek didn't quite understand. As if left, he realized that Stiles had called for his mother. He lingered in the door for but a moment, watching his betas rest around their friend. Derek left before he found himself joining them.

(*)(*)(*)(*)

The first thing that Stiles notices when he wakes up is that he is sweating. As his eyes flutter open and his vision clears, he sees that there is a mass of bodies atop him. Namely, that of his friends. Well, ex-friends. Isaac, Erica, Boyd, and Scott are all asleep in the bed, laying on him in some form or another. Isaac and Erica have him sandwiched between the two of them. Scott's laying across his legs. And Boyd is sort of half on, half off. His head on Stiles' shoulder. The rest of him wouldn't fit on the bed. But he was bound and determined to be touching Stiles one way or the other.

He tries to get up and finds himself pinned down by the others, refusing to let him move. And it's probably for the best. Turns out, hangovers are just as terrible as people have said. He has a raging headache and the inside of his mouth feels like a swamp. To say nothing of his stomach. If he had to put it into words, it was like hot coals had been stuffed in there, roasting him from the inside out. The others laying on him wasn't helping anything. In fact, it was making it worse. His skin went clammy, and he felt his abdomen twist. Yep, he was gonna hurl.

He somehow managed to shove himself upright and direct it into a trashcan that was conveniently there. It tasted of bile and half-digested liquor. Thick and sour. The taste of it only made him vomit more. By the end of it, he was crying and there was snot streaming down his face. That, and the others had woken up and were coming to. Isaac scrunched his nose in distaste, the smell of it disturbing him. Erica rubbed the sleep from her eyes, along with Scott. Boyd seemed to be fully awake already. The four of them moved to say or do something when the door opened.

It was Derek, standing rigid and none too happy. His nostrils were flared. No doubt from the scent of Stiles' eruptive stomach. He jerked his head towards the doorway, silently instructing the others to leave the room. They complied without so much as an ounce of hesitation. Once they were gone, he let someone else enter. It was Scott's boss, Deaton. Stiles had met him several times. There weren't really any words that they exchanged. He didn't know that much about the man. Save for that he was quiet and concise. Rarely answering questions with any concreate information. Stiles hated that about him.

He was carrying a large satchel as he walked in. The man regarded Derek before closing the door firmly in the man's face. There was a certain satisfaction that Stiles took from that. Maybe Deaton wasn't such a bad guy after all. He could see them being friends in the near future.

"Good morning, . How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been beaten by the US Olympic boxing team."

"Excessive consumption of alcohol has that effect. Judging by the fact that you're still vomiting, you still have plenty in your system." His remarks weren't sarcastic or judgmental. Simply concise and to the point. Stiles couldn't fault him for that. Deaton had a way of saying what needed to be said in a calm and simple manner. He took out some things from his bag and began drawing fluid into a syringe. Stiles flinched back on principal. He was never one for needles. Deaton assured him that it was a simple vitamin shot that would replenish his body. There was also a lot of water and some kind of electrolyte pill. After it was all said and done, Stiles noticed that his arms was bandaged.

He vaguely remembered falling down in the preserve last night, landing on some twigs. They had cut into his arm fairly deeply. Then there was Scott and Isaac and their funny faces and weirdly yellow eyes. It was hazy, but it had happened. There were pieces that needed filling. First and foremost, why he was in the Hale house. Secondly, why he was being tended to by a vet rather than an actual doctor. Deaton, being perceptive as ever, seemed to pick up on this.

"I'm sure you have many questions. I'll do my best to answer them."

"What's happened to my friends?" Stiles asked.

"They were given a choice. A choice to become something more than they were. And the accepted it. Namely, for the sake of their own wellbeing."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Such things aren't for me to say. Only that they are still your friends, and they care a great deal for you. As given example by their state this morning." Stiles didn't really understand that. The past weeks had given proof that they cared very little for him. Disregarding him at every opportunity. Brushing him off for one reason or the other. Crafting an endless series of lies to cover their tracks. That was the exact opposite of caring. But there was something that was bothering him. Something he couldn't let go of. And that was what happened in the forest.

That may have been his first time being drunk. But he knew for a fact that unless the bottle had been laced with something, he wasn't hallucinating. The seal had been intact and everything. There wasn't a chance for any tampering. Which means what he saw was real. And that raised a whole other series of questions. Namely, what in the hell were his friends.

"I want to see them. Now."

"Of course. I would advise patience. This kind of thing has a way of working itself out. Let them speak before making any judgements."

Stiles nodded curtly before making his way out of the room. He didn't waste any time. Downstairs, there was an entire procession waiting for him. It seemed as if the entire Hale family was there. Laura and her husband, along with a groggy Tristan. Their extended family and their kids. And of course, Derek and Cora. Isaac, Erica, Boyd and Scott were there to. None of them said anything as he made his way downstairs. They just watched as he descended, eyes trained on his every movement. Derek seemed to be the most rigid of them all. Isaac was almost shaking. Erica was clinging to Boyd like a lifeline. The lot of them were tense as could be. Stiles was just angry. Still very much and rightfully angry.

"Answers. Now." He didn't direct the command to any one person. It was given to whomever would speak first. To give him the information that he needed. It was Laura. And she didn't mince words. They were werewolves. Well, most of them. Some of the kids were human. But most of the Hales were wolves. And they had moved back to Beacon Hills to reclaim their territory. She and Derek were alphas, the ones that were the head of the pack. Derek had turned Isaac, Erica, Boyd and Scott after offering them the bite. They had all accepted.

Isaac took the offer to keep from being helpless. To never know weakness or fear. Erica and Scott took it to cure them of their respective illnesses. Boyd accepted to he wouldn't be alone anymore. They all had their reasons for becoming werewolves. For choosing to be a part of Derek's pack. Stiles could almost feel his brain start to melt. He had always considered himself to be an open minded person. But that was pushing it. The only reason he didn't completely lose it was because of the looks his friends were giving him.

The four of them were on the verge of tears. Just as Stiles, ready to break down at a moment's notice. He couldn't help it. There was a part of him that felt sorry for them. His anger cooled to a dull throb. Subsiding into something more along the lines of forgiveness. He still had questions. Namely, why they hadn't told him. Why they had been ignoring him. Why they had forgotten him. Isaac calmly explained that Derek had said they couldn't be close to him. That he was human and it was too big a risk. That he didn't want them exposed or hurt. That it was to keep them safe. Laura and several others mirrored the sentiment. That they had been taught their entire lives to be wary of humans. Cora said the same. But Stiles wasn't listening to them. He was looking at Derek. And then, he was moving. Walking calmly and evenly towards the other man. He moved to speak, to offer his side of the story. To explain things. Stiles didn't give him the chance. Instead, he punched Derek straight in the face. In hindsight, it probably wasn't the best decision.


	13. Chapter 13

Derek expected Stiles to react to the truth a number in one of two separate, but equally expected ways. There was the most standard and obvious one. Cowering in fear the realization that there were, in fact, creatures of the night. That all the stories and horrible legends throughout history were true. That humans were prey. He would curl up in a corner, crying uncontrollably. Or perhaps he would run, screaming into the night. Away from the monsters. Away from the horror of reality. Then of course, there was the second option. Calm, simple rationalization. Stiles wasn't stupid or hotheaded. He was a collective thinker who took information with ease. That would've been the best reaction. The one Derek hadn't expected, was to be hit in the face.

He never took Stiles as one for violence. Someone who lashed out and became enraged. Derek only had a moment before he heard the young man's heartrate increase. Then, there was a fist in his face. For someone as lithe as Stiles was, he certainly packed one hell of a right hook. Derek actually stumbled backwards a bit from the impact of it. It had been a while since someone had punched him in the face. The pain was just as bad as he remembered.

Stiles was seething when he looked back up. His pupils were blown wide, breathing erratic. The sharp, pungent stench of rage rolled off of him in waves. There was angry, and then there was this. Never mind the fact that he was an alpha werewolf. Never mind the fact that even if he was human, he still had sixty pounds on Stiles. The young man had, without an ounce of mercy, struck him in front of his pack. Derek felt his wolf rumble with displeasure. He took Stiles' assault as a challenge. He was in the process of clamping it down when the boy moved to strike again.

Being prepared this time around, Derek easily caught the boy's fist. And when he moved to strike with the other, Derek caught that as well. It was a stalemate. Stiles wasn't going to be able to hit and neither was Derek. They were inches apart, face to face. Derek knew that his eyes were gleaming red, fangs itching to press through. He hadn't had this loss of control in a while. Not since first becoming an alpha. Stiles was pushing his buttons. And not in a good way.

"You done, cause I'd like to explain my side of the story." Stiles didn't give him time to say anything else. Instead, he yanked himself towards Derek, closing the distance between them. Then, he slammed his forehead into the older man's nose. There was an audible crack, followed by a distinct squishing sound. Stiles had broken his nose. Derek stumbled back, white bleeding at the edges of his vision. There was a steady stream of blood pouring out of his nose, staining the front of his Henley. This time, he couldn't help it. The shift took over, and he roared right in Stiles' face. The boy, for all his credit, didn't move an inch. The betas in the room were cowering away, frightened by the enraged alpha. Stiles wasn't. He was still ten different levels of pissed, unmoving.

"The punch was for them. The broken nose was just to drive the point home. Don't fuck with my friends."

"Pardon me for wanting to keep them safe from humans who have, throughout history, hunted our kind down like animals." Derek spat.

"What's the first sign of an abuse victim?" Stiles asked, ignoring Derek's explanation. It caught him off guard. Stiles was still boiling with anger, with no sign of letting up. It was certainly a reaction that Derek hadn't expected. In all honesty, it was a very werewolf thing to do. React and protect. Challenge the threat and eliminate it. Stiles may not have tried to kill him. But he certainly wasn't taking it easy either.

"Is there a point to that question?"

"The first sign of an abuse victim is isolation. The abuser cuts the off from any support system they could find in their daily lives. Namely, me." That….that was crossing a line. Derek was many things. Insecure, foul tempered, and maybe a little paranoid. But he was by no means abusive. He had never laid a hand on any of his betas. Never striking them as a means to assert authority. Not once.

"You think I'm abusing them? I gave them something they desperately needed. That literally saved their lives!"

"And in the process, cut them off from someone who they had before they became werewolves. Not exactly the nicest means of transition, asshole."

It had become a standoff. Stiles wasn't backing down and neither was Derek. The two of them were locked in eye contact, not moving or saying anything. Derek was still shifted, his wolf angry and howling at him to retaliate. Stiles was unmoving and unafraid. That was impressive to say the least. Most newly enlightened people would've shit themselves when confronted with an angry alpha wolf. But Stiles wasn't. There was a part of Derek that respected that. One that appreciated his concerns for his friends, even if they were entirely unfounded.

"I won't apologize for doing what I thought was right. I'm sorry you got hurt. But protecting my pack, my sister's pack, is the most important thing."

"I don't give two shits about me. I can deal with it. They don't deserve it. You gave them the bite, and made them a part of your pack. That doesn't give you the right to be a tyrant." The tension in the room could've been cut with a knife. The betas were still hunched over in fear. Laura was the only one who had remained calm throughout the entire ordeal. She coolly walked over, taking Derek by the arm. The alpha looked in his sister's eyes and got the message. Pulling back in the shift, he allowed himself to calm down. Reigning in the wolf.

"Stiles, why don't you go upstairs and take a shower. You reek of alcohol. When you come down, I'll get you some breakfast." Laura said. The young man took a few more seconds to glare at Derek before complying. After that, he stomped his way back up the stairs, still burning with an intense fury. When he was gone, the room breathed a collective sigh of relief. Derek went over to his betas, still flooded with fear. Isaac was the worst. He didn't have a taste for violence. Years spent under the thumb of his father saw to that. Derek embraced the younger man, taking him in arm. The others crowded around, calming themselves. It took a few minutes, but eventually, the tension faded from their shoulders.

Erica was the first to speak. She was afraid. Afraid that Stiles was going to leave and not come back. Scott of course, mirrored the idea. Boyd said nothing. Derek wasn't certain what Stiles intended to do. Certainly, he wasn't going to tell anyone. That was for sure. But that didn't mean that he was going to stick around either. He was royally pissed and there was no telling how long that was going to last. Derek didn't know what to do. How to fix it. Stiles wasn't pack. At least, not to Derek. His betas knew him and that was about it. There was no way that he knew of to calm the young man down. To make him see his side of things. Why he made the choices he made. It was a problem.

His betas needed Stiles. He was a part of their lives before they were turned. And it was now obvious that he was a part of it now that they were pack. He considered trying to explaining to him the reasons behind his choice. Why he didn't let them near their old lives. It wouldn't be easy. Voicing that kind of pain after so long. He could do it, for the sake of his betas. But he had to make sure that Stiles would listen. That he would give Derek the chance. And it started with his betas. Apologizing to them, making sure that they understood that he was the one at fault.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gotten angry. I'll talk to him. In private." The four of them nodded their agreement, allowing Derek to make his way upstairs. Stiles was just coming out of the shower. A few strands of his hair dripped water onto his bare chest. He promptly ignored the other man and put on a shirt that Laura had given him. It was one of Derek's. The combination of their mingled scents sent a sharp jolt down his spine. Just minutes ago, Stiles had challenged him in front of the others. Now, he was unknowingly wearing the other man's scent like a badge. It made Derek's wolf very confused. Pack was recognized by scent. By the sharing of marking and communication of affection. It was an integral part of being a werewolf. They just did it without even thinking. Stiles wasn't pack. Not to Derek. But him smelling like pack…It gave Derek unexpected ideas. Ones that he didn't feel entirely comfortable about. Not at the moment anyway.

"I'd like to try talking again, without the punching this time. If it helps, I apologized to them." Stiles regarded him with pointed suspicion. As Derek expected. After the fiasco downstairs, getting him to listen would be a Herculean effort. To say the least. But much to his surprise, he heads towards the room that he slept in. Derek follows behind him as Stiles closes the door.

"Talk." Derek took a breath. Trying to steel himself. The truth of his paranoia and suspicion was a painful one. A reality that he hadn't had to face for some time. Let alone bring it up with a stranger. It was something that he buried deep and locked away. It was his shame and his heartbreak.

"When I was sixteen, I met a woman. She was older, more mature, sexy. I thought she loved me."

"Failing to see a point in that intro." Stiles quipped.

"If you'll let me finish. I thought she loved me. I trusted her. Enough to reveal mine and my family's secret. She then proceeded to trap them in our house and burn them alive." It was the second time he had ever said it out loud. The first and only time was when Laura moved them across the country to New York. It was a year after the fire. He had bottled the guilt and the shame until it came pouring out him like a geyser. She sat through it all, never saying a word. When he was done, she held him through the sobs and told him that it wasn't his fault. That he was loved. Now, standing in front of Stiles, the reaction was vastly different.

The younger man went pale in the face. He didn't move or speak. His heartrate went slightly upwards. It was the classic look of shock. The anger that had been coursing through him dulled down to a dull memory. It seemed that Derek's confession had stunted him into silence. For a moment anyway.

"Someone….She actually….Fuck." There weren't words to articulate that kind of reality. The sheer and utter horror of innocents burned alive and left to smolder in the scene of their murder. What Kate did was beyond cruel or evil. It transcended every notion of malice or sadism. That was just the kind of woman she was.

"As long as there have been werewolves, there have been those that have hunted us. Most only go after the ones that harm the innocent. The ones that kill or turn people against their will. But Kate, she didn't care. That we had never harmed anyone. Or that my mother never turned anyone. Or that there were humans in the house. Along with children."

Stiles was again, left speechless. It was the first time Derek had ever seen him like this. Normally, when he was around, he was the life of the house. Always making noise, having conversation. It unsettled him to think of a Stiles that had nothing to say. Because that meant the reality of his truth went a bit deeper than he expected.

"And you thought I would do something like that? That I would hurt them?"

"My family was burned alive because I trusted the wrong person. I'd rather not risk it happening a second time." Derek said flatly.

"Were you ever planning on telling me? Or were you just gonna leave me wondering in the dark. Thinking that my friends had abandoned me?"

"Laura convinced me it was for the best. Either that, or offer you the bite."

"You were gonna offer to turn me?" Stiles asked in a surprised tone.

"If you wanted it."

This time, Stiles went rigid. Deep in thought, working over Derek's words. The older man could see the other working it over. The gears turning in his head. It was something that he noticed about Stiles. That he was a profound thinker of just about everything. He analyzed and scrutinized. It was just the kind of person he was. Derek respected that.

"Thanks, but I'd rather stay human. It works for the others, but not for me."

"Why not, if you don't mind my asking."

"Because I've spent enough time wondering why I was never good enough. Why I always felt second tier in everyone else's life. I worked too hard to get where I am, and I did it on my own. Being a werewolf won't make me better like the others. It'll just take away from the me I spent the last eighteen years making."

Derek…He hadn't expected that kind of response. Stiles was unique, even in the world of werewolves. The young man was loud mouthed. Sarcastic and witty. But most of all, he was shamelessly himself. A person who was never afraid to be the way they wanted to be. But underneath that was a river of uncertainty and insecurity. It was a hell of lot more than teenage angst. It was a hard ground truth. One that Stiles had faced his entire life. He had felt inferior or unwanted by those around him. That he was never good enough for the people that were supposed to love him. Derek understood that more than anything.

"Listen, we got off on the wrong foot. Laura made pancakes. Her pack is downstairs. And now that the truth is out in the open, I think the kids would like to see you."

"Playing 'the kids love you' card is a damn shitty move. But seeing as there are pancakes. I'm willing to forgive you. For now." Stiles said.

"Good to know."

"Not gonna apologize for breaking your nose though."

Derek allowed himself to laugh ever so slightly. Stiles made his way past, descending back down the stairs. The lingering traces of their mixed scents wafting into Derek's nose. It was a strange sensation, having someone smell like pack but wasn't. At least, not yet. Stiles didn't want the bite. He wanted to be human. To be himself. In the world of werewolves, that was a dangerous way to live. He wasn't a hunter. He wasn't trained to fight. Stiles was a just an extraordinary human boy. But that was the fact. He was human. And Derek didn't know how well that was going to work out. It was another risk that he was taking. Though somehow, he found himself thinking that it was all going to be fine. One way or another.

In the kitchen, both packs had gathered for the breakfast Laura had prepared. As expected, Stiles was the center of attention. He was holding the now awake Tristan with one hand while trying to eat with the other. The toddler was taking up a great deal of Stiles' focus, demanding attention. Jacob, one of the Laura's betas was also vying for the young man's attention. All of the kids were happy that Stiles was in the loop. That he knew their secret. The older ones asked if he was going to be coming over more often. That if they were going to play video games or watch movies. If he was going to come over to their house for once. And if he would help them with their homework. Thankfully, the adults directed them to their seats, instructing them to eat. Stiles was grateful for it.

The betas crowded him, invading his personal bubble. Each of them brushing against Stiles, affirming their happiness with affectionate touches. Isaac and Erica shamelessly rubbed themselves over Stiles, scent marking him in full. Boyd and Scott were slightly more reserved. They opted to simply brush shoulders with the young man. Stiles was obviously very confused and didn't understand what was going on. But he seemed to take it in stride all the same. There was a lot that Stiles had to learn about werewolves. Namely, why they liked to touch. The reason behind their relentless affections. Derek made a list of all the things that he had to explain as he watched the young man interact with his pack.

Now that Stiles had learned the truth of things, he was laughing. Smiling. Enjoying the morning with Derek and Laura's pack. It was a good thing. A better outcome than Derek ever expected from revealing their secret. And he watched Stiles return to his wise cracking self, he felt some of the fear he had start to melt away. It was a strange sensation. A curious warmth that curled in his belly and nestled there like a root. If he had to put it into words, he would've said that he was happy. That Stiles had made him happy. It was a dangerous notion to consider. But one that Derek welcomed all the same.


	14. Chapter 14

It has been a week since Stiles learned the truth. Turns out, there was a lot more to werewolves than Hollywood portrayed. Firstly, there was no snapping of bones or breaking of limbs during the transformation. The process of shifting was rather straightforward and mostly painless. At least, that's what they told him. It was like an itch at the back of the skull. A sensation behind the teeth, that creeped forward and took over the body. A sort of itch that came across the skin. Also, not nearly as much fur as he expected. Though there were some decidedly bushy sideburns. All in all, it had been experience.

The first full moon he spent with the Hales was an event. Isaac, Erica, Boyd and Scott were all like live wires. Moving around, unable to keep still. The oldest of the kids, Jason, had shifted for the first time. He was scared shitless. It was rare to feel the full shift before the age of fifteen. He was a year ahead. His mother held him as he howled at the moon. Stiles looked on in shock and a little sadness. It wasn't so much a curse as a heavy gift. There was a lot involved that he didn't understand. But Jason made it through the night, and the family celebrated the next morning. It was then that Stiles got his next lesson in learning how werewolf packs functioned.

Isaac and Erica's meek behavior had been thoroughly unraveled by Laura. She explained that the newly turned felt a natural desire to show submission to their alpha. Hence, the bowing of the head. And the sudden silence. It was a sign of respect. Apparently, Derek had been training them to not respond so literally. To suppress the side of the wolf that acted on impulse and sheer instinct. It made sense. And it also explained why Stiles thought that Isaac had been suffering abuse. The signs had been mistaken. But he still wasn't going to apologize for his reaction. Derek still seemed sour about it. If only a little.

There was also all of the touching. There had been a lot of it. He hadn't noticed it before. The way the others had been interacting with him. But now that he was in the loop, the affection of his friends was rather obvious. Whenever they were near each other, there was always some excuse to touch him. A brush of the shoulders. A hand across the arm. Fingers across his neck. Then there was of course the crushing hugs. Even in public, it bordered on inappropriate. Stiles had to explain more than once that normal human beings didn't interact like that. Isaac and Erica were crestfallen. But adhered to his requests nonetheless. At the Hale house, things were an entirely different matter.

They were practically on top of him at every opportunity. When watching a movie, Stiles almost had to beg for space. But he never did. He saw how important it was for them to be close. For them to have contact. Laura explained that wolves associated pack with scent. To them, Stiles was pack. Even Boyd and Scott had their own levels of affection. Though they weren't nearly as intimate as the other two. The kids however, they had no concept of boundaries.

The little ones would pounce on him without warning. Sending him sprawling down to the floor. They then proceeded to smoosh him under their tiny bodies. The older ones were more like Isaac and Erica. Touchy and feely, but with some manner of respect. Stiles did his best to adapt. Even Laura was touching him. A hand across the arm. A brushing of the shoulders. It made the adults of her pack a little more comfortable. Apparently, once an alpha scent marked someone, it was a sure sign that the person was to be trusted. Stiles found himself in better company as the others relaxed. That just left the puzzle of Derek.

The older man seemed to be conflicted. He was in proximity to Stiles, but always kept his distance. It was strange. The others had come to be relaxed and friendly towards him. Hell, even Cora got in on the whole scent marking routine. Which was something of a shock. Though she always chose to simply clap him on the shoulder. Stiles never brought it up. He wasn't pack in Derek's eyes. It was okay. He had his friends back and was learning more and more each day.

After the full-fledged introduction, Deaton had contacted him. Stiles reported to the clinic after hours and received a series of lesson in all things supernatural. Namely, the world of creatures. There was a lot more than just werewolves in the world. It was fascinating stuff. It came in bits and pieces. Whatever Deaton decided to teach that day. Stiles hated the pace in which he worked. But the man said that all things required patience.

Creature study took priority. The secondary lessons focused on what Deaton called 'practical magical knowledge'. There was a host of things that could be manipulated with what he called a 'spark'. A certain degree of willpower outside of the normal. Few people had it. Fewer people could access it. In Deaton's words. It was the means in which one could shape the world. Stiles didn't really understand it all that well. But he went along with it anyway.

Mostly, it involved plants and the like. Parts of nature that could be used for many different purposes. There was a lot of reading involved. Learning the names, both scientific and common. How different cultures utilized them across the centuries. It was a lot to take in. But Stiles always did love to learn. Most of the plants offered spells for protection. From evil. From malice. And most commonly, from the non-human. There were a myriad of species that were weakened or even contained by certain things.

One of them was the mountain ash. A rather old species of tree that had been utilized by many ancient cultures. In magic, there was one continuous purpose. It protected from the supernatural in just about every form imaginable. But it was a tricky thing. Most people couldn't use it. They lacked a certain willpower. A burst of energy needed to control it. As Deaton explained, it was a matter of inherent power. According to him, Stiles was one such individual. Someone who could make use of nature's forces for whatever he may need them for.

There was also mistletoe and Wolfsbane. Both of which were highly toxic. Mistletoe was something that revealed the hidden. Bringing forth truth from deception. The way the book described it, the plant made what was unreal, real. In the sense that it sliced through magics meant to conceal. Wolfsbane was another matter entirely.

It was poisonous. To werewolves and humans. But it evoked a particularly violent reaction in werewolves. There were depictions of people with black lines crawling up their arms. Thick tar oozing from their mouths and noses. It wasn't a painless way to die. That was for sure. Stiles wondered what purpose Deaton had in teaching him this. He suspected he'd learn soon enough.

Stiles hadn't decided to test anything as of yet. He kept reading, learning more and more about the world who never knew existed. Mainly, just what being a werewolf involved. It was all rather straight forward. You had an alpha, head of the pack. Then you had the betas. They functioned as a group. Living as a tight knit family unit. Much like that of a human one. Exactly like a human one. The only real difference was the intimacies involved. He had seen to that first hand.

He was still grasping the near steeled devotion the others had towards Laura and Derek. The instinctual drive to follow. It didn't make a lot of sense. But he'd given up trying to find out the answers. It was something that was a part of their lives. He respected that. Even if he didn't find himself making sense of it.

Most days were spent at the Hale house if not at Deaton's. Between school, lacrosse, and studying the supernatural, Stiles felt himself quite tired. But never more so than on the weekend. Derek had enrolled in college full time. Laura was working round the clock trying to maintain her job and pack. It was on those days where Stiles stepped up to the plate. The adults all had their respective jobs. As well as their pack duties. More times than not, Stiles found himself babysitting a bunch of werewolf heathens. It was tiresome and thankless. Human children had enough energy as it was. Werewolf children were far worse. There was a never ending series of games or activities he had to employ to keep them occupied. Thankfully, they were always entertained.

Cooking was another issue. Werewolves would start eating the walls if not properly fed. Once, that came very close to being reality when the twins weren't given lunch on time. The little shits. Thankfully, the Hales always had a fully stocked fridge. And Stiles had a wealth of recipes in his head. His family was Polish after all. It was mostly hearty meat dishes filled with potatoes and onions. With some cabbage thrown in for good measure. There were some old style Jewish recipes his Nonna had given to him before she died. The kids really didn't understand kosher cooking. But they devoured it all the same.

The others were just as pleased. Erica and Isaac practically preened every time he made a meal. Bouncing up and down in their seats with excitement. Scott had experienced his cooking first hand. But there was still that same old giddiness. The kids were more interested in the fact that he could also bake. Wolves had a sweet tooth. Thankfully, the whole healing thing meant that they were unlikely to get cavities. The adults, were of course, grateful. After they decided that Stiles wasn't going to try and strangle their children, they trusted him more and more in taking care of them. There was still a lot of settling down to do. The only real issue was Derek.

The first time the older man had come home to Stiles cooking, he had stood in the doorway, seemingly flabbergasted. Spine rigid and firm. Face blank with shock. His nostrils flared and he retreated upstairs towards his room. Saying something about needing to get caught up on some assignments. Stiles didn't think much of it. He had work to do. It was hell keeping the kids out of the kitchen. The little bastards were always trying to pick something out. Sometimes while it was still cooking. The biggest problem was Tristan wanting to be held all the time. Laura had explained that wolf kids needed greater levels of attention. Stiles understood that. And while he considered himself to be a skilled individual, cooking and cradling a toddler did not go hand in hand.

Isaac was the one who kept the kids attention the best. He missed his brother more than anything in the world. Being an only child wasn't a good look for him. So having nearly ten younger siblings to look after brought a side out that deserved a chance to flourish. Erica and Boyd were always there as well. Sort of on the side, ready and waiting if Isaac should ever need them. Scott didn't like kids. Even if they were pack. But he put up with them all the same. And a good thing to. Stiles didn't like having to chase them out of the kitchen every ten minutes.

Deaton's lessons were getting more intense by the day. There was less reading and more practicing. Using the knowledge that he had gained to apply theory into work. As expected, it left him tired at the end of the day. The others were always commenting on how bad he looked. Stiles never said anything. But he did opt to sit on the bench a bit more during practice. He wouldn't get to play as much. And that did make his dad frown a bit. It was another issue entirely.

Just a few weeks ago, he had said he suspected Derek of mistreating Isaac. Now, he was at their house most weekends. And when he wasn't there, he was at Deaton's. There was a lot of time unaccounted for that he had to lie his way out of. Thankfully, over the years, he had become rather good at it. His dad didn't seem to notice. Stiles still felt like an asshole. He understood the importance of keeping a secret. Particularly this secret. It was some juicy little piece of gossip. This involved peoples' lives. Their safety. Their children. It wasn't his to tell. As much as he'd like to tell the truth, it presented too much a risk. And if he was honest with himself, he didn't want his dad involved. There was enough danger in being the sheriff of Beacon Hills. No way in hell he was gonna add supernatural fuckery to that list of threats.

He never brought it up with Laura or Derek. They knew he was the son of a cop. They knew that he was someone who constantly had eyes on him. But they also knew that he was going out of his way to keep them safe. To keep them hidden. That he would protect them. Not just for his friends' sake. But for the sake of their pack and their children. And because the Hales had enough suffering to last a dozen lifetimes. Stiles had seen it in their faces. Laura was always bright and cheerful. Cora and Derek were often stern faced and silent. But sometimes, there was a crack in their faces. A small chip in their usual demeanor. It came from an old photograph. Burned and ashen at the edges. A piece of jewelry, cracked from fire. Some token that reminded of the life that had been stolen from them. The life that had been ripped away without an ounce of mercy. They had a new family now. But the memory of those whom they had lost would always linger.

Stiles never asked about it. Never dared to cross that line. He knew than anguish of losing someone loved. It was a hole in heart that would always fester. A gapping void in the soul that never closed. No matter what you gained in life, that loss would always be there. Some days were harder than others. On those days, he tried to be the best friend he could. The first time Cora embraced him, it took Stiles by surprise. She had come home after a detention. Lashing out towards a teacher or something. She was upset. Visibly so. The young woman didn't say anything. Instead, she plopped down on the couch, laying her head in Stiles' lap. He stroked small circles in the back of her head, saying nothing. They were just there, together. Derek came by a few minutes later. He took his sister's feet in his lap, rubbing her ankles. It was then that Stiles got a different perspective of the man.

Derek was a bit like the reverse of being gilded. On the surface, he was like iron. Hard, cold, and impregnable. There was a wall there. Something dark and fiendish. A barrier made of trauma and mistrust. Rightfully built after a horrendous betrayal. But underneath, he was the softest and purest of golds. Every time one kids wanted to play, he made the effort. When Isaac or the other had questions about what they were or why this was happening, Derek listened. To every word, with intent. And he would give a solid answer. It was there, the man who he was supposed to be. Underneath the pain and loss, there was a man who shone like the sun. And Stiles didn't know how to process that. It was just another part of being in the world of werewolves. He figured he'd get used to it eventually.


	15. Chapter 15

Derek had a problem. And his name was Stiles. Not necessarily in a bad way. But there was an issue. Stiles had found his place in the pack, amongst the betas. Even Laura's were fond of him. To say nothing of the kids. Isaac and the others were on top of him at every given moment. Which was a lot. Stiles had been spending an increasing amount of time at the house. Whether it be for his friends, or to babysit the kids. Laura's betas had trusted him in that regard. And that's where the issue began.

Derek had been working on school. Just like any other day. He came home to the smell of frying meat and onions. He suspected that one his betas was making something to eat. Unusual. Most of the time they just got burgers or ordered a pizza. What he found stopped him dead in his tracks. Stiles, in the kitchen, clad in an apron over the stove. There was an array of things cooking or simmering away. Tristan and Jayla were bouncing around, vying for his attention. He goodheartedly scolded them and told the two to go play in the living room.

In that moment, Derek felt a part of him stir that had laid in slumber for a rather long while. It was a matter of instinct above all else. Stiles was pack but not. Someone who the wolves knew but wasn't a wolf himself. And he was providing for them. In their world, that meant a great deal. It showed care, concern, and a will to keep safe. Translating into something of a display. He rushed upstairs before he could do something he'd regret.

It took several minutes for him to calm down. Stiles was still an enigma to him. Isaac and the others had scent marked him. Along with Laura and the kids. Even the other betas had started doing it. Stiles smelt of wolves. Derek was pretty much the only one who hadn't. For more reasons than one.

Namely, Derek didn't know how to classify Stiles as pack. He wasn't a wolf, so he wasn't a beta. He didn't show or offer submission of any kind. But at the same time, he cared for the others in his and Laura's pack. Derek copped it up to Stiles being Stiles. Until he saw him with Cora. It had been a rough morning. Laura had brought out of box of their parent's things. Jewelry. Photos. Things like that. Cora, for all her steeled will, broke down. She spent an hour crying. Despite that, his sister made her way to school. When she got home, she didn't say anything. To anyone. She simply made her way to the living room and collapsed on top of Stiles.

The young man didn't even flinch. He took her head into his lap, stroking her hair is soft circles. The effect was instant. All the tension bleed out of Cora's shoulders. She relaxed enough to fall asleep. Which was a surprise in of itself. Ever since the fire, her trust towards humans had been non-existent. Even other wolves got the cold shoulder. To see her so comfortable, trusting towards someone else. It was beyond words, the warmth of happiness his felt. And it was all thanks to Stiles.

He was many things. More human than most other people. Despite the fact that he had his entire world turned upside down, he was unflinching loyal towards his friends. Nine times out of ten, people lost their minds when confronted with such truths. But not Stiles. He was there, day and night. More so than was needed. Because he knew his friends. Knew that they wanted him there. Derek wanted him there to. He just didn't know how to tell him. As the days went on, he kept trying to bring up the subject. Of many things. To thank him for working with the kids. For helping the betas finish the transition. But most of all, to ask his permission to scent mark.

The others never did. They had a report with Stiles that allowed the bypass of that kind of social grace. Derek didn't. He and Stiles weren't enemies. But they weren't quite friends either. It was instinct to want to scent mark him. So that he would carry Derek's mark, signifying him as pack. To calm his wolf and as an instinctual need to provide protection. Humans were breakable. Humans healed slowly. And in the world of werewolves, that was a risky place to put oneself.

He waited until Stiles had settled in after cooking yet another dinner for the pack. The young man had prepared some kind of stuffed peppers with fresh greens and baked cheese bread. When it was served, the others practically inhaled it. Derek actually had to remind them of their table manners. When it was all said and done, they all piled into the living room to watch a movie. As Derek predicted, the lot of them passed out on the couch halfway through. He walked in to see his betas atop of Stiles, stuffed and content in slumber. When he saw Stiles, he was decidedly unhappy.

The young man's shirt had ridden upwards ever so slightly. Revealing the smooth expanse of his stomach. There was a dark line of hair on his navel, travelling down into the waistline of his jeans. Derek, on any other day, would've marveled at the sight of the other man. But he was distracted by the purple blotch he saw. Taking a little more liberty than he should have, he lifted Stiles' shirt to show the rest of his torso. He was bruised rather heavily. Purple and yellow patched all across his abdomen. The reaction was immediate. He felt his eyes shift, fangs itching to burst through. His throat rumbled with a low growl.

These types of injuries occurred from being hit, hard. And not just once. Some of the bruises were weeks old. Judging from the coloring. He was just about to wake the young man, demanding answers, when Laura walked in. She took him by the arm, pulling into the kitchen. In her typical fashion, she didn't say anything. She just made tea, giving Derek the cup. Taking idle sips from her. After he managed to calm down, she explained. Stiles was on the lacrosse team. The bruises were from practice. He was playing offense. As he was slight, fast, and agile. Perfect for crossing the field.

Derek still didn't feel a sense of calm. Stiles wasn't being beaten. At least, not in the sense of assault. He was playing a high contact sport that involved him being smashed into the ground. Despite that he wasn't really built for lacrosse. Or that he would heal slowly. There were a myriad of things Derek felt. The desire to scold him. The need to protect. But most of all, to ask Stiles why he smelled exhausted all the time.

It was one thing to play a sport. But unless Stiles was being run until he dropped, he shouldn't be that tired. If that was the case, Derek was going to have a few words with the lacrosse coach. There was something else going on. And Derek figured it had to do with the alpha pack.

They had made their presence known some days ago. A string of animal killings just outside of town. Nothing to out of the ordinary. To the layman, it appeared to be the work of mountain lions or some other large predator. But Derek knew otherwise. Deucalion had made his way back. He was coming for them. For what reason, he didn't know. Laura didn't either. The best guess they had was some manner of revenge for killing Ennis. Despite that he had died months ago. And Deucalion had plenty of time to come for them. The day Deaton arrived, things began to piece together.

The emissary had been educating Stiles in the world of the supernatural. And not just werewolves. Teaching him about all manner of creatures that occupied the night. Derek didn't fault him for that. What he did fault Deaton for, was teaching Stiles about magic. There were many things that Derek could stomach. He had been training his betas from day one. Learning them in the means of combat. How quickly their injuries would heal. So on and so forth. They could protect themselves. They could win in a fight. Stiles was another matter entirely.

He wasn't an opponent to turn one's nose towards. But he was by no means an expert fighter. His main strategy was to punch until he hit something. In an actual confrontation, most of his shots would miss. That, and he lacked power. Human opponents would stumble. Werewolves would brush it off and go on about their day. Derek didn't want Stiles thinking he was a match for an alpha just because of a few magic tricks. Deucalion was an entirely different level of crazy. He was ruthless, striking without concern or mercy. He would mow down anyone in his way. And that included Stiles.

When Derek confronted Deaton about it, the man had an interesting suggestion. To introduce Stiles to Chris Argent. Not to become a hunter. But to learn the means in which they operated. Their combat methods. Their training with firearms and archery. They were human, just like Stiles. And over the last two hundred years, they had developed many different ways to kill the supernatural. It wouldn't hurt for Stiles to pick up a few tricks. It wasn't a bad idea. But it certainly wasn't a good one either.

Derek talked to Laura about it. Her truce with Chris notwithstanding, his sister had been responsible for the murder of their family. She was open to the idea. But she wanted to make sure that Stiles was safe throughout the process. He would jump in without thinking, not caring of the consequences. That was just who he was as a person. The meeting with Argent would also give an opportunity for Scott to reconcile things with Allison. Derek knew that there was very little chance for a relationship there. He wouldn't exactly approve of it if there was. But he wasn't a tyrant. His betas were free to associate with whom they chose. So long as they understood the consequences.

When he finally approached Stiles on the matter, the young man listened with intent. About the Argents. Their history. Their purpose. He was enthralled in a strange sort of way. He agreed to meet with Chris and the others. Just to see where things would go. Namely, he was going to support Scott. They were friends and that's what friends did for each other. Derek didn't fault him for that. Not one bit. It was just who Stiles was.

The day of the meeting, Chris answered the door, a solemn look in his eyes. Ever since he learned of his sister's actions, he had always looked at Derek with a certain sense of guilt. Not only for the death of his family, but for what Kate had done to get to them. The man had apologized only once. It was brief and concise. But Derek knew that the other man meant it. There was no tick in his heart. No tremor in his voice. It was coming from someone who had acknowledge the sins of his family. And one who was now paying the price for them.

When Scott and Allison met inside, the room went silent. The two of them stared at each other longingly. Unspoken truths and half-baked lies being brought into the light. Derek let them have their conversation in private. Chris directed them towards his study. He was blunt as ever. As was Derek. The older man was interested in the idea of training Stiles. He was the perfect age for it. Young, able to learn quickly and keep up with the practices. On one condition of course. Chris wanted information regarding the animal deaths outside of town. He knew something was up. But he no longer had the resources to find out what.

Derek was loathe to trust him with such things. His truce was with Laura, not him. But the fact of the matter remained. There was a pack of alphas making their way towards Beacon Hills. And they were going to need all the help they could get. Derek offered a few pieces, keeping the rest when he and Chris could be alone. Stiles didn't need to concern himself with the matter. Not right now anyway. Even with training, it would years before he was ready for the likes of Deucalion. And Derek would keep him out of the front lines as long as he could. The boy was only human after all.

When they left, Scott was decidedly upset. The young man was silent the entire ride home. Stiles asked what had happened as soon as they arrived back at the house. Allison wanted time to think. To ponder the meaning of what they were. Both as a couple and as individuals. To a teenager, that basically meant no chance in hell. Scott had convinced himself that Allison wanted nothing to do with him. Derek didn't have anything to say. In the area of relationships, he didn't exactly have the best experience. Scott was going to have to figure this one out on his own. Stiles and the others would be there to help. Just as they always were. Derek had other matters to attend to. And they were closer than he thought.

(*)(*)(*)(*)

Stiles' brain hurt. There was studying. And then there was this. Deaton had been drilling him relentlessly on various subjects. Mainly, the classifications and denotations of werewolves. Their strengths. Their weaknesses. And so on. There was also more work on the application of magic. Mainly, making barriers with mountain ash. Like Deaton had said, it took a certain will to manipulate it. Stiles found himself exhausted after each trial run.

The first step was to lay down a perfect barrier without disruption. A line or circle that would contain the supernatural element in question. It took an immense amount of focus. The first time, the line was only twenty feet long. But Stiles had to restart half a dozen times. He kept losing his track of thought, causing gaps in the barrier. When he got the Hale's he was ready to collapse. But the kids needed dinner and he was already there.

After which, there was a surprise. Derek wanted to talk to him. In private. He wanted Stiles to meet with Christ Argent. Turns out, his family were werewolf hunters. Had been for centuries. Allison was one to. That explained why Scott broke up with her. The reason for the meeting was to train Stiles to defend himself. In Derek's words, claws and fangs were a lot harder to use when there was a bullet in your head. Stiles agreed.

Scott came along with them, to talk with Allison. They hashed things out in private while he and Derek met with Chris. There was something between the two of them that Stiles noticed. Chris wouldn't look Derek in the eye. Not for any length of time anyway. He filed it in the back of his mind for later. Now wasn't the time to bring such things up.

Chris agreed to train with Stiles. Granted, he had his conditions. It was mainly to be kept in the loop in certain matters. The man didn't specify which matters. Only that he stay informed. Derek nodded curtly and moved to leave. Something else that Stiles took note of. They were hiding something. And as usual, Stiles was going to find out what it was.

The first training session at the Hale house was, in a word, intense. Chris had spent time in the military. It reflected rather heavily in the way he trained Stiles. Mainly, it was running drills. Testing his strength, reflexes, agility, and stamina. Playing lacrosse for nearly four years worked in his favor. He had decent muscle strength and definition. That just made Chris push him even harder. After that, they jumped straight into combat exercises. And it was in that moment, Stiles learned two things.

One, apparently, he was very good at taking a hit. Chris didn't spare any punches or hold back. At least he never went for the face. Two, he was wildly unprepared for how hard it was to land a hit. Chris may have been in his forties, but the man could move. By the end of the session, Stiles was on the ground, breathing heavily. His thighs burned. His torso felt like it had been ripped apart. It was a grueling day. Isaac and the others were healing from their respective bouts. They'd shuffle inside and clean the blood off themselves. As they always did. Claws and fangs made for interesting training.

When it was all said and done, he didn't linger. For the first time in a while, he was heading to Lydia's. They had an evening planned. He didn't know what she wanted to do. Only that they did something together. When he arrived, Jackson's car was in the driveway. Stiles ignored the other boy when he walked in. Lydia found him, greeting him with a kiss on the cheek. Jackson gave Stiles a pointed glare. They were by no means friends. But they had grown past the mutual hatred they held for each other. In this instance, they simple tolerated the presence of the other.

Lydia had already opened a bottle of her mother's good wine. She'd catch hell for it later. But at the moment, it didn't matter. The goal wasn't to get drunk. After the little escapade in the woods a few weeks ago, Stiles was in no mood for a repeat. The Notebook is of course, the movie of choice. For Lydia anyway. Jackson grumbles in displeasure. As he always does. Stiles chooses a Tarentino favorite, making Lydia sit through absurd amounts of bloodshed. Everything she disliked. Jackson, surprisingly enough, chose some art house drama film about a man who'd lost his wife. Shockingly touching for someone so cold hearted.

They cycle through the movies and by the end, the lot of them are tired and wine happy. Stiles intended to spend the night. As he had before. Lydia's mother had long since gotten used to the idea of him. She knew there was nothing going on between the two of them. It was a process, but she relented on Stiles. Jackson would sleep in Lydia's room. Stiles would take the downstairs guest. He shot a short text to his dad letting him know where he was. And what he had been doing for the night.

When he moved to get up, the world span in drastic circles. Becoming blurred and distorted. He stumbled for a moment, then fell over in a heap. Passing out sucked. When he came to, there was a procession of people in the living room. Scott and Isaac were there, along with Erica and Boyd. Apparently, Lydia had taken his phone and called Scott. Who then called the others. But the most surprising person present, was Derek. He was standing in the doorway, scowling with a pointed sort of frustration. He had been the same way during the training session. Trying to glare through Stiles as if his eyes could shoot fucking lasers or something.

The others haul him off his feet and take him outside. It's well into the night and Stiles knows that he should head home. He doesn't want to be saddled with all of the questions Lydia surely has for him. He moves towards his Jeep when Derek comes up from behind and snatches his keys away. He instructs Erica to drive the Camaro to Stiles' house while Derek drives the Jeep. On any other day, Stiles would've protested, vehemently. But he was too tired to care at this point.

He doesn't say anything as Derek drives. The older man, is as always, stone silent. Stiles, for the first time in recent memory, is as well. There was an odd sort of tension between them. One that he didn't quite understand. They were still in that strange grey are of not-enemies, but not-quite-friends. He didn't know how to traverse the distance between them. Neither did Derek. But Stiles supposed talking would do the trick.

"Any particular reason that you're mad at me, Sourwolf?"

"Don't call me that." Derek snapped.

"Don't avoid the question." Stiles had never been one to beat around the bush. His bluntness had gotten him into more trouble than most people should have to deal with. The method in dealing with Derek was the same. He wasn't going to skirt around the older man like a frightened kitten. Just because he was an werewolf and an alpha didn't mean that Stiles wasn't going to place nice.

"You're pushing yourself beyond the reasonable."

"And by that you mean?" Stiles asked.

"Between school, lacrosse, the kids, and training, you've exceeded your limits. You constantly reek of exhaustion. And you get bruises faster than they can heal."

"Last time I checked, that's what happens to humans in play in contact sports and train with werewolf hunters. Sorry that I don't have miraculous healing abilities."

"Just take it easy is all I'm saying."

"Wasn't aware that you actually cared." Stiles didn't fully realize the ramifications of his words until he had said them. Derek's jaw tightened along with his grip on the steering wheel. He swore he saw the alpha's eyes flash red for a single second before turning back to hazel green.

"I do care Stiles. You're pack. And pack looks out for one another. That's what we do."

"Then why haven't you scent marked me like the others?" The question in brief and to the point. So much, that it throws Derek off. Just enough to cause a swerve. This time, Stiles knows that the other man's eyes flash. Oops. He may have crossed a line.

"You didn't give me permission."

"And? The others didn't even bother to ask."

"That's different. Scott and the others are your friends. Laura and the kids….You have something with them that you don't have with me. We're werewolves, and we do it out of instinct. But you're human, so there's a line that's there."

"And you thought that I'd somehow be mad at you for trying to touch me?"

"I know what it's like when someone takes liberties with your body." Stiles didn't have to say anything after that. He knew that Derek was talking about Kate Argent. He'd learned the full truth of it the day he had met with Chris for the first time. That Kate had wormed herself around Derek, seducing him at the tender age of sixteen. There were ten thousand things wrong about that whole ordeal and Stiles didn't even know where to start.

Derek had assumed that his scent marking him would've be comparable to what Kate had done to him. There was a certain anger that burned at the back of his head because of it. That Derek had even considered the two of them were similar in any way. He didn't know how to tell him otherwise. How to explain that Derek wasn't the man he thought he was. That he was so much better. So instead, he took his hand, and traced it over the base of Derek's throat.

The gesture itself was a bit bold. No one touched an alpha's neck. It was a sign of weakness to do so. Maybe Stiles should've opted for a different place. But it was the one that he thought would make the most impression. Derek seized at the contact, breath hitching in his lungs. Stiles gave him a moment before he took the other man's hand and let him run his fingers over his adam's apple. It seemed to relax Derek a bit. The tension bleed out of his shoulders. One small step for man and all that.

When they arrived at Stiles' house, Derek didn't say anything. Neither did Stiles. They simply got out of the Jeep. Erica came bounding over, saying that she would come over in the morning. Stiles said that was fine as he tried to get her to release his grip. The young woman walked away smiling, as if she knew. Stiles guessed that she did. Werewolf nose and all. Derek threw Erica out of the driver's side and moved to get in. He waved goodbye to Stiles in that silent way he always did.

"Goodnight, Sourwolf." Derek's scowl grew just a little deeper before he disappeared into the Camaro. Stiles let himself smile. They were almost friends. Almost. It was slow, but it was a start.


	16. Chapter 16

The last few days had been rather eventful. Stiles was still reeling from it all. Mainly, it had to do with his training with Deaton. The man had accelerated his training to a new margin. Mainly working, again, with mountain ash. And if he was honest, he was improving. He had been able to not only to create a solid barrier, but he was able to increase the length of it. In theory, he would've been able to contain a supernatural. In theory. There was no means to test it. He considered asking one of the others for their help. But he didn't know how much he should tell them. It wasn't something that was easily explained.

He was continuing his work, locked away in his room. He'd been at it since dawn. It was well into the afternoon now. He was just on the verge of completing another barrier when there was a knock at the door. Taking the steps one by one, he was a little dizzy, he made his way downstairs to see who was disturbing him. Before the door was even open all of the way, Erica pounced atop him. Stiles crashed to the floor, the young woman's chest smothering his face. Any other man would've been thrilled. He just wanted to breathe.

"Catwoman, off." he said with a mumble.

"Good to see you Batman."

"Nice to see you to Erica. Why the sudden pouncing?"

"We're overdue for some pack time. You've been in your house all weekend." She took him by the hand, dragging him outside. The Camaro was there, Derek leaning against it. The older man was the most relaxed as Stiles had ever seen him. Most of the time, he walked around like he had a stick up his ass. Today he was…..Calmer. Better than he was. It was strange to see him like that. Not that it was bad. But it certainly was a surprise.

Erica hopped in the passenger seat, while Stiles moved towards the back. Before he managed to get in, Derek swiped his hand across Stiles' arm. It was the first time that he had willingly scent marked him. There was a slight uptick in the younger man's heart. A warmth bloomed across his skin. A prickling at the back of his skill. It was a strange sensation.

Derek drove in silence while Erica was a practical chatterbox. She had gone on yet another date with Boyd. They'd been an item for a few weeks now. It was good. The two of them were exactly what the other needed. Stiles was happy for them. But Erica didn't stop there. Apparently, Isaac had been spending a lot of time with Scott. The two of them were slowly becoming inseparable. And not in platonic way. They smelled more and more of each other each passing day. Stiles pondered just what his friends were up to. He made a note to ask them about it later.

When they got to the Hale house, Stiles barely had time to get out before there was a swarm of bodies atop him. Isaac was the first. He wrapped himself around like a coil, tightening just a little too much. The kids came after. Stiles lost his balance, falling to the ground. A sharp jolt went up his spine, sending a wave of pain through him. The kids didn't notice. But Derek did. The alpha's eyes were glaring red, a low growl vibrating in his throat.

"You're hurting him. Get off." The kids scrambled away. Simpering ever so slightly.

"Bit of an overreaction. Don't you think?" Stiles asked as he got up.

"They need to remember that you're human. And that you don't heal like we do. You're pack, but they have to respect the differences between us."

"Such as?"

"I break a bone, it's healed in a day. You break a bone, it takes six weeks."

"I hardly think a bunch of kids are going to break me." Derek didn't comment after that. He just walked inside, grumbling under his breath. Back to his old Sourwolf self. Stiles had almost missed it. The house was brimming with activity. Laura's betas had brought everyone over. Kids and all. It was a rather large gathering. They all bid Stiles hello, greeting them in the typical werewolf fashion. He thought that after a while he'd get used to it. But it never ceased to amaze him how intimate they were. When just a short while ago, they were all strangers to each other.

Laura was in the kitchen, cooking away with every burner on the stove occupied. Her husband was doing his best to calm a fussy Tristan. The young boy had been experiencing growing pains. Isaac had texted him last night saying something about him crying, keeping the whole house awake. Stiles took Tristan in arm, rocking him gently, trying his best to get the boy to sleep. It took a little while, but after ten minutes, the little wolf was gone from the world. Laura breathed a sigh of relief. She then proceeded to order her husband to help her with all the cooking. Stiles was always amused at how bossy she could be.

He was content with holding Tristan, letting the little boy sleep. It wasn't long before he was nodding off himself. He closed his eyes and that was it. When he opened them, Derek was taking a still sleeping Tristan away. Carrying him off to his room. The older man gave Stiles a pointed glare before disappearing. He was upset. And as far as Stiles was concerned, there was no reason for him to be.

Making sure not to catch Laura's attention, he slipped out of the kitchen. The others were occupied in the living room, playing some kind of video game with the kids. For the first time in his life, Stiles was quiet as he made his way through the house. Upstairs, Derek was just leaving Tristan's room. Having put the boy down. He stared at Stiles, saying nothing. But there was still that pointed look he had earlier. Same trademark scowl.

"So, any reason for the lovely mood you're in today, Sourwolf?"

"I told you not to call me that."

"Do you always evade a question when someone asks?" Stiles didn't like confrontation. It wasn't his style. He liked to make his way through the world making as little noise as possible. Being the center of attention didn't suit him. Not in this life anyway.

"You're tired again." Derek said.

"And? I'm a teenager. If I'm not tired, I'm usually bursting with energy."

"You've been practicing too much. Deaton's been pushing you too hard."

"He told you?" Stiles asked.

"He's the emissary to our pack. You're pack. Of course he told me."

"And you're mad because, what? I'm not sleeping enough?" Stiles was legitimately confused as Derek's anger. It seemed irrational and misplaced.

"Because as a human in this pack, you're taking on more responsibility than is needed. Humans, they take a more passive role in pack. You're shouldering too much. And the others need to respect that you're not a default for their every need. It isn't fair to you. And you need to realize that sometimes, it's best to take things slow."

Okay, that was more than Stiles could take. There were a lot of things he could tolerate. People leaving nasty notes in his locker. Calling him foul things behind his back. His friends ignoring him. But someone else telling him how to live his life, for his friends…Yeah. No. That wasn't gonna fly so much as a fucking mile.

"Look, I get it that you're the alpha and all. But I'm not a werewolf. I'm here for my friends. You say I'm pack, then get mad when I act like it. As if I'm doing something wrong. So please don't try and lord that whole red eye thing over me. Cause I'm really not in the mood to break your nose again."

Now, Stiles was the one that was mad. He was taking care of his friends. He was practicing basic magic, trying to learn more about the world he had been exposed to. And Laura was still adjusting along with her betas. The fact that he was helping should've been a good thing. But Derek was here criticizing everything that he did. As if he had any right to. Stiles didn't say anything else. He just turned on his heel, walking away. Derek snatched his arm, holding him in place. It didn't hurt, but it certainly wasn't helping anything.

"Look, I…It wasn't meant to sound like I was flaunting my authority. It's just that you have limits. Limits that we don't. I respect that you want to help. But at the end of the day, putting your health at risk for ours doesn't help anyone. So please, try not to take so much on at once."

It was the first time Stiles had ever heard Derek use the word please. Usually, the man just grunted or growled and people snapped to attention. But now, there was a solemn look in his eye. A faint memory of something that was gripping tight in his belly. It took Stiles a minute, but he understood why Derek was acting the way he was. He had lost his family. They had been murdered in cold blood. He didn't want to see anyone else get hurt. Or taken away. Derek was afraid for him. The realization was one that Stiles hadn't expected. There was more to Derek than he previously thought

The two of them didn't say anything else. Instead, they made their way back downstairs, towards the others. There was a sizable group around the tv. Isaac and Scott were trying to teach the kids how to play some random game they had fished out. For the most part, it was a complete disaster. Only a few of the kids had the basic reasoning skills to play video games in the first place. Trying to teach a five year old to handle an X-box controller went as well as one could expect. Stiles was laughing throughout the entire ordeal. They were so engrossed in the matter that before they knew it, Laura was calling everyone for lunch. That, the kids paid attention to.

The respective packs ate in the same manner they always did. Loudly, and talking in-between bites. Stiles wondered if werewolves suddenly lost manners when food appeared. If they way they inhaled food was anything to go by. Derek seemed to have calmed down with the meal. There was less tension in his spine. Less rigidity in his posture. Stiles chalked it up to his stellar communication skills. Who knew talking could be so beneficial.

After the meal was done, he opted to help Laura clean. Being a guest and all. But Derek was already there with Boyd, washing away. It was surprisingly domestic of him. For the most part, Stiles had never seen Derek do much of anything around the house. But now, watching him work on something so simple, Stiles felt his heart flutter. It was a strange sensation. One that he hadn't felt in a while. Not since….

The thought of that sent a flush to his cheeks and a warmth across his chest. In fact, the sudden increase in his heart was so apparent, two of the kids came into the kitchen. He easily distracted them with the promise of video games. That always did the trick. Derek didn't seem to notice. Thank god. Stiles didn't know what he would've done if he had. There was a lot on his mind as it was. Blushing because of one Derek Hale wasn't something that he was in the mood for. So he went about playing some mindless game with the kids, trying his best not to think about it. The effort failed dramatically.

Come Monday, Stiles was ready to strangle the next small, furry creature he came across. Deaton had given him some last minute homework regarding mountain ash. Stiles had all but mastered creating barriers, as long as he held focus. Now, Deaton wanted him to work on creating them on the fly. As in, taking a handful of ash, throwing it in the air, and having the barrier form as it settled. In theory, as with everything else, it was possible. But Stiles felt tired after focusing on the barrier. To create one on the spot, with no time, was more than difficult. It was impossible.

After getting back from the Hales, he found himself practicing again. And no matter what he did, it didn't work. The ash just ended in a pile on the floor. Useless. After three tries, Stiles collapsed into his bed, filled with frustration. Deaton was pushing hard. Trying to get him to explore his limits. At this point, he had found them. He could construct a barrier, given enough time and focus. But making one in a matter of seconds, that was a long ways off. He pushed it to the back of his mind. He had school in the morning.

He woke with a knot in his shoulders, and a ball of tension in his lower back. Magic kicked back like a damn mule. Push too hard too fast, and you'd feel it the next day. Stiles was indeed feeling it. The shower helped. If just to loosen his muscles. Once dressed, he came downstairs to discover that his dad had left him breakfast. That was a surprise. After all but inhaling the pancakes, he rushed to the Jeep to make sure he got to school on time.

Once there, the usual mess of greetings found him. Erica and Isaac gave their usual crushing hugs. Scott and Boyd clapped him on the back. Ever since Derek had said something in his little outburst, they'd been a little gentler. Stiles was thankful for it. The practices with magic, coupled with Chris' training left him sore most of the time. At least his friends seemed to notice.

The group made their way into the school, with Isaac standing just a little bit closer to Scott. There was something going on between the two of them. He didn't know what it was, but it looked a lot like how Derek had been looking at Stiles as of late. When he wasn't scowling that is. Stiles had caught the older man gazing at him with something close to fondness. Maybe adoration would've been a better word. It was an improvement over his judgmental eyebrows and near constant glaring. Even still, Stiles felt himself a little confused. Derek was an enigma to him. Someone who seemed one way, but acted another. And Stiles didn't know how to feel about that.

Once inside, the group parted ways, going to their respective classes. Stiles always felt himself breathe a small sigh of relief. In school, his friends were a lot less touchy feely. Not that he minded. But there were some days that required a little less of their sometimes smothering affections. Not that he would ever tell them that. It would've broken their little wolf hearts.

The day passes in relative ease. The teachers in a better mood than they had been as of late. He actually didn't even get that much homework. By the time lunch came around, he was happy to see Lydia. She and her father were on better terms now. Jackson had been spending more time at the young woman's house. The two of them were inseparable. Which is why Stiles was surprised to see Jackson sitting three seats away from her. He was an asshole the best of days. But he never ignored Lydia. Never. Stiles sat himself down, asking what was wrong in that easy way only he could manage.

Apparently, there were two new kids that had just transferred into the school. Twins. The straight one, as Lydia called him, had made unwanted advances. Jackson had seen it and assumed the worst. Rather than let her explain, he'd thrown something of a tantrum. The other twin had his eyes set on Danny. The young man didn't mind all that much. According to Lydia, the two of them were rather attractive. But Stiles had lost track of the conversation. There was a strange sensation creeping along the back of his head. Someone was watching him.

He turned round, scanning the cafeteria for the one who was watching. He found two instead. There were the twins, standing in the corner, smirking ever so slightly. They were still, then they weren't. The both of them moved towards the far end of the cafeteria to exit. Towards the staircase. Stiles didn't say anything. He got up as discreetly as he could. Making sure no one noticed his departure. Thankfully, no one did.

He didn't really have a plan, per say. He only knew that he wanted to know why two alpha werewolves were suddenly attending the school. It wasn't something that he could ignore. Especially since the others were betas. They wouldn't stand a chance against an alpha, let alone two if cornered. Stiles had a few tricks up his sleeve. Which he had to put to good use rather quickly.

Once in the stairwell, one of the twins was at the top, still wearing that shit eating grin. The other jumped down, landing behind him. Stiles didn't have time to think before the wolf had him by the throat. Pinned against the wall. Strong fingers latched onto his neck, making it difficult to breathe. He squirmed uselessly against the grip. There was no escaping it. The alpha just kept smiling.

"Now Aiden, don't damage the Hales' pet too much. We want him back in one piece." The other twin said. His brother relaxed his grip ever so slightly. Not enough for Stiles to escape. But enough for him to breathe a little easier.

"He reeks of them. God, they must be all over you. Not that you mind. Obviously." Aiden said.

"Is there a reason we went straight for the throat grabbing? Didn't your mother teach you any manners?" Stiles said while gasping.

"Just wanted to introduce ourselves. The Hales' owe us, just a bit. We wanted to remind them of that."

Stiles didn't know what Aiden meant by that. But he figured he would soon find out. First, he had to get free. There were a few ideas that came to mind. But none of them were very good. He had his bag, which was full of his practice materials. A mountain ash barrier would've been super helpful. But he needed time and focus. Both of which were in short supply at the moment. So, he knew what he had to do.

Moving slowly, he reached into his bag, finding the container he needed. The glass was cool underneath his fingertips. Aiden was paying attention. So when Stiles kicked him in the balls, it came as a surprise. The alpha stumbled backwards, howling in pain. Stiles didn't waste a second. There was a current across his skin as he smashed the container of ash on the ground. He hoped it would work. And it did. When the dust settled, there was a perfect circle, locking Aiden into place. He tried to move forward to no avail. He was trapped. Stiles had did it.

The other twin moved to leap off the stairs when Stiles produced another container. This one was filled with a bright, shimmering powder. The two alphas stilled realizing what it was. Stiles made a note to thank Chris Argent later.

"I break this, the entire stairwell gets flooded with Wolfsbane. It'll send me to the hospital with irritation to the eyes and lungs. But you two will experience systematic organ failure within the hour. By the time you figure out what strain it is, it'll be too late."

Neither of the attempted to move. But their eyes did flash in anger. This time, it was Stiles turn to wear a shit eating grin. Before they could change their minds, he bolted back out of the stairs, towards the cafeteria. He was already dialing the number on his phone. It rang twice before it was answered.

"Laura, we have a problem."

"Stiles, what is it?"

"There's two alphas at the school." Judging by how loudly she roared, Stiles assumed she was rather pissed.


	17. Chapter 17

Derek found himself in the woods, running. It was as good an exercise as any. There was a tension in his spine. A buzzing at the back of his skull. He had been saddled with the urge to run, to let the wolf loose all day. Finally, he gave in. The preserve was the perfect place for it. Wide open spaces. No real trails. Perfect for blowing off steam. He started running and he didn't stop. And it was all because of Stiles.

The young man had been occupying an increasing amount of time in Derek's mind. Some in a very good way. Others, not so much. Stiles was the human element to their pack. He wasn't born into a werewolf family. He had no concept of who or what they were. He wasn't a turned wolf, so there was no given instinct. But nonetheless, he didn't act like it. He took to being pack rather well. For someone so utterly human. It confused Derek in ways he hadn't felt before. Stiles didn't realize what he was doing half the time. And it was beginning to become a problem.

The first issue was how easy he took to all of it. The fact that there were indeed werewolves in the world. That such creatures existed. When he had learned the truth, his first response wasn't fear. Or mistrust. Or even shock. It was anger. The first thing he did was punch Derek in the face. It was the last way he hadn't expected the young man to react. He wasn't worried about himself. Only about protecting his friends. Even after they had been cut off from him. Granted, that had been Derek's fault. But still, Stiles remained loyal to a fault. And that wasn't the only thing.

Every day he was over at the house, there was something that he was doing. Providing for the pack. Whether it be cooking dinner for the kids. Helping them with their homework. Or playing with the little ones. He was always occupying a role. Behaving like a wolf. Despite not being one. Even when he was exhausted. Even when he should've been resting. His first instinct, his first thought was to help. Derek didn't know how to deal with that.

He was a bit like Cora after the fire. There was an inherent fear and distrust he held towards humans. The first few months in New York he hardly ever left the apartment. It was the single worst time of his life. The deaths of his family shackled him with guilt and misery. His sister was doing her best to be the alpha they needed. But he was simpering in a corner, crying himself to sleep. It wasn't very becoming of a beta.

After the first two years, he did something unexpected. He got a job. It was as some chicken shit dinner that stayed open twenty four hours. The food was terrible. The coffee worse. And there was a perpetual layer of grease on ever viable surface. He loved it. In a strange sort of way. The doing of something, that act of having a routine helped in ways that he needed. Laura didn't say anything. She let him work. Despite them not needing the money. The insurance claims saw to that.

Eventually, Laura brought home her first omega, Richard. Twenty five, no kids. No spouse. Left his pack for a reason he didn't specify. Laura didn't ask. He moved into their apartment building not long after. It was uncomfortable at first. He was scared and confused. The man had been without an alpha for six months. The fact that he hadn't gone insane was a miracle. Laura didn't notice. She took him under her wing, despite being so much younger than him. Derek did his best to be the pack mate Richard needed. And after a month, things got better. That's when Laura brought home Denise.

Her alpha, who was also her husband, wasn't a good man. Not only was he having multiple affairs, he was akin to a tyrant. His word was law. Anyone who disobeyed was cast out. Or beaten. Most chose to leave. Denice knew that she didn't want to raise her kids in that kind of environment. So, with what courage she could muster, she took her three year old son and ran. She arrived seven months pregnant and begging for help. Derek responded by cooking her dinner and playing with her son while Laura settled them in. It was an easy enough fit.

When Janet was born, the pack was in a frenzy. Wolves were protective creatures by nature. As well as possessive. Denice's husband showed up, claiming that his daughter was his pack and that he was taking custody. The ensuing fight wasn't pretty. Derek got away with scratches and a few broken bones. Richard ended up with a sever lacerations and a fractured skull. Denice's husband barely walked away. The man swore revenge, threatening to bare his pack down on them. Thankfully, Laura had make quick friends with the other local alphas.

When he did try and return, he found three alphas and their betas opposing him. Surprisingly enough, the man wasn't stupid enough to try and start a fight. He left New York, along with what remained of his pack. After that, things got interesting. A few more betas showed up. Displeased with their alphas in one form or another. Laura took them with ease and grace. And all the while, the void in Derek's chest closed ever so slightly. He was feeling whole again. He was healing. And it only worsened the guilt.

The idea that he could forget his sins was one that turned his stomach. That his sister's work, her efforts to be a good alpha had somehow absolved him. He was reminded of what he had done every time he looked at Cora. She was rife with anger and mistrust. The newest pack members made every effort. Every chance to bond, they took. Cora never responded. Derek tried as well. To no avail. She stayed angry. Right up until Laura decided to move back to Beacon Hills. And that's where Stiles came in once again.

The first weeks of their being introduced, Cora displayed the same sense of mistrust. Stiles didn't seem to notice. Then, as she watched him, things changed. Derek saw it to. He didn't like other people on principal. That was just his personality. But Stiles seemed to be an exception to all the rules. He made Cora feel safe. He didn't ask questions or judge. He was just Stiles. As if him being there was always the perfect thing. Derek had watched as the scars around his sister's heart faded away. Some of his own vanished as well. And that was the problem.

Stiles was an eighteen year old with the world ahead of him. There were so many paths that he could take. So many things that he could do. And Derek wasn't going to be the one that forced him to stay. Stiles didn't have the same obligations as the rest of the pack. He didn't have the same restrictions. Wolves needed their alpha. Needed their pack mates. Stiles was the exception to that. He could be free to go anywhere. Go to any college. Derek knew that. He also knew that if he told the other man how he felt, things would change. Because truthfully, Derek didn't know how he felt.

It was a strange blanket of warmth that curled in his belly. A giddiness that invaded every thought. Yes, there were days where he wanted to strangle Stiles. To smack him round the head. But most days, he caught himself staring. Long looks at a person who turned his view of the world in its head. A simple, human man. And that's all it took for Derek to know that what he was feeling was something that Stiles didn't deserved to be saddled with. He didn't deserve the burden of his feelings. There were better things that he could be doing. So, Derek decided that he would remain silent. It was the best thing for everyone involved.

He turned to make his way back to the house when his phone rang. It was from Laura. Odd for her to call so late in the afternoon. She said something about an important meeting at work today. Some big merger that she and two other lawyers were working on. When he answered, Laura was breathing heavily. He knew something was wrong. But Derek didn't have time to say anything. Laura beat him to it.

"The twins are at the school. They hurt Stiles." There was a beat of silence. A moment where the breath of creation came to a screeching halt. Then, Derek was running. Adrenaline coursed through him like a river. Lighting his muscles on fire. Power his legs faster than he'd ever managed to go in his life. He was just making his way back the house when he heard the first car pull up. Cora got out of the Camaro with Isaac and Erica. Stiles came up in the Jeep along with Scott and Boyd. They didn't even notice Derek as they made their way inside. He didn't bother taking offense.

Once inside, he pushed past his betas. Heading straight towards Stiles. The young man didn't smell of pain, or panic, or fear. For all the world, he seemed perfectly fine. There was no scent of blood or anything else that would signify injury. Until Derek saw his neck. Along that slender column of flesh were five distinct marks. Dark, purple, and in the shape of fingers. One of the twins had not only assaulted Stiles. They had a left a mark on him. Another alpha had left a mark on one of his pack.

Derek was mad. He wasn't upset. He was a writhing ball of unrestrained fury. The shift came without him meaning to. But before he knew it, his fangs had descended. His claws prickling at his fingertips. Stiles moved to say something. Most likely to try and placate him. But Derek didn't give him the chance. He bolted outside, before he could do something to hurt someone. He opted instead, to hurt himself.

The first punch to the tree does little to dull his anger. So he punches again. And again. And again. He keeps hitting until the bark starts to strip from the tree. Until it lodges in his knuckles. Until there is blood streaming down his fingers. Until there is enough pain to override his anger and frustration. By the end of it, he's actually made a dent in the tree itself. Almost as if he had gone at it with an axe. Even still, he finds himself breathing heavily. His heart is pounding in his chest. The anger is still there. But it wasn't at Stiles. It wasn't at the twins. It was at himself.

He always knew that he wasn't cut out to be an alpha. He was born and raised as a beta. Meant to follow. Not to lead. Not to protect or provide. That wasn't his role. One of his pack had been hurt. Never mind the challenge it presented. He didn't care. Stiles had been hurt. He had been assaulted. And that's what mattered. That Derek wasn't able to protect him. That Stiles wasn't able to protect himself. It struck a blow to place Derek didn't think could go any deeper. But it did. And it hurt. In more ways than one.

By the time he finally collapses, Stiles is by his side. The younger man had come up beside Derek without the alpha noticing. It either pointed to a particular talent on Stiles' end. Or that Derek was really shitty at being a werewolf.

Stiles doesn't say anything. He just sits down beside Derek, and picks up his hand. He then proceeds to administer rudimentary first aid. He takes a pair of tweezers, plucking out the pieces of bark still lodged in his flesh. It is a tedious process. Werewolves already had advanced healing capabilities. Being an alpha only amped that up higher. Stiles had to work around skin and tissue that was trying to heal over the bark. He painstakingly moved around it, probing as gently as he could. Derek appreciated the sentiment.

After all the pieces had been removed, Stiles wiped Derek's hands down with alcohol wipes. Disinfection. As if he could get sick from punching a tree. It was an unnecessary effort. But one that Derek let Stiles indulge. The boy knew that wolves had better healing and better immune systems. There wasn't a need for the wipes. But Stiles continued on anyways. Because he cared. Because that was just the kind of person he was.

Derek felt that strange place in his chest tighten. His heart started to beat just a bit faster. There was a warmth in his cheeks. And it was all because of Stiles. Once again, he was feeling in a way he didn't know he could. After Kate, that part of him withered and died a painful death. And he was in no way eager for its revival. Especially not for someone like Stiles.

Someone who cared without restriction. Someone who was stubbornly loyal. Someone who's first thought was for anyone but himself. Someone who approached an angry alpha werewolf and didn't think twice about it. To say that he was extraordinary would've been an understatement. Stiles continued to break all of Derek's expectations. All of the rules he had set in place for himself. Again and again. But that was only one problem. The other was the matter of Stiles' assault.

The entire time he was tending to Derek, the older man didn't take his eyes of Stiles' neck. Off those atrocious bruises. Or the fact that Stiles was hurt. Or the fact that he hadn't said anything about it. That he had ignored it entirely. Stiles was hurt. But he was more focused on protecting the others. More focused on Derek. And while it was truly a Saint-like quality. It irked Derek to no end. It also served to infuriate him further.

"I'll kill them." It wasn't an empty threat. He intended to rip Ethan and Aiden in two. Rendering them to a form that no one, no matter the science or effort, could identify.

"And when the others come, what then?" Stiles asked.

"What others?"

"They said they owe the Hales. And I got the feeling they weren't just talking about themselves. There are more alphas aren't there?" It was another quality that Derek admired about Stiles. He was unparalleled in his ability for perception. It was what made him so dangerous. And it's what also put him in danger. Derek didn't think they could afford any more of it.

"A pack of alphas, yes. Back in New York, they came to visit Laura. Said they were watching the Hale alpha at work. It was fine for a while. Until it wasn't."

"What happened?"

"One of them, Ennis, took a keen interest in Laura. And not in a polite way. She put up with it. Then, one day, he crossed a line. He put his hands on Laura. I reacted."

"You killed him?" Stiles asked. There was no judgment in his voice. No tremor of fear or anger. It was a simple question. Meant to divine truth. Derek didn't know how to process that.

"Yes. That's how I became an alpha. Their leader, Deucalion, took them and left after that. Apparently, he wasn't as okay with it as I thought."

"And now he's ordered the twins to come after us. To come after me."

"You're human. You don't heal like we do. You can't fight like we do. It makes you vulnerable.

"I didn't seem too vulnerable when I threatened to kill them by smashing a jar of Wolfsbane in their faces." He said with a pointed smirk. It was a very Stiles expression.

"Wolfsbane?" Derek asked.

"Curtesy of one Chris Argent. I've been experimenting with the stuff. Trying to learn how to effectively use it. One method is powdering it so when it's released, the wolf inhales it. It goes directly into the lungs and metabolizes far quicker. They would've died of mass organ failure in less than a day."

Once again, Derek found himself surprised. Stiles, by his core nature, was a provider. A caregiver. Someone who loved and protected. Derek had seen it day in and day out. It's what Stiles excelled at. It was who he was. But at the same time, there was a fury there that defied explanation. When pressed, when backed against a wall, Stiles became a hurricane. An immutable force of nature that leveled forests and ravaged continents. He was the type of man who would tear God from his throne. If only for the pleasure of it. And it scared the hell out of Derek. In a very good way.

Stiles had been making more progress than he thought. He had been working, not only in combat training. But in the use of Wolfsbane as well. Was carrying it with him to school. That wasn't a coincidence. Stiles was protecting himself. But it wasn't enough. He had barely escaped with the bruises. And as much as Derek liked to think Stiles would be okay, he knew he wouldn't.

"Will you let me give you the bite?" The question is blunt and to the point. Derek didn't bother mincing words. Not at this point. Stiles was in danger. As a wolf, he could better protect himself. It would be a hard transition. But one that Derek had every confidence that Stiles could overcome.

"Thought I made my position on that clear."

"That's before two alpha werewolves assaulted you. That's before the fact there are at least two more in the waiting. You're human Stiles. And as long as you stay human, you're in danger."

"And, what? My learning how to control the sudden urge to bite and maim fluffy woodland creatures would be so helpful. Being an out of control werewolf would only be a bigger risk. And don't give me that crap about how the pack would help. Time isn't a luxury we can afford right now. Not with a pack of alphas on the prowl."

Derek conceded that Stiles' logic was sound. There was no guarantee on his track towards control if he was turned. It would be messy. It would be painful. Even still, Derek knew that Stiles would be a good wolf. Be a good beta.

He grabs Stiles by the shirt, hauling him off the ground and pushing him against a tree. The younger man lets out a small cry of shock. Surprised at the sudden movement. Derek lets his eyes go red, starring Stiles down. Boldly, he takes the corner of Stiles shirt down. Revealing the junction of his neck and shoulder.

"I could do it without your permission. You'd hate me. Probably take a long time to forgive me. But you'd be safe. You could fight back. You could protect yourself Stiles." The two of them said nothing. There was a long stretch of silence. The air becoming thick with tension. Then, Stiles spoke.

"Never mind how much I would hate you. Never mind that the others would hate you. Or that your sister would kick your ass after my dad got done shooting you."

"And what it is that I should be considering instead?"

"You told me you understood what it felt like when someone took liberties with your body. Apply that thought process now." Stiles said coldly.

Derek jerked back like he'd been slapped. There were many things in the world that had caused pain. His first full moon. Where he had screamed in pain, unable to fully understand what was happening to him. Losing everyone he loved in a fire. Failing his family. Being betrayed by someone he thought he loved. But nothing, nothing hurt quite like what Stiles just implied. That he was like Kate. That he was no better than the woman who murdered his family. There wasn't anything to say.

He let go of Stiles, not even bothering with an apology. The other man didn't offer one either. Derek walked away, tears stinging at the edges of his eyes. As he moved closer to the house, he heard Stiles punch a tree. Giving a sharp cry of pain. It was only a fraction of what Derek felt crushing his heart.


	18. Chapter 18

Stiles was hiding. Mainly, from the Hale house. But also, from Derek. After what had happened with the twins, the two of them had a distance between them. A rift that couldn't be traversed. And it was Stiles' fault. One of his biggest issues was his mouth. He never did know when to shut up. It was an ongoing problem. He should've handled it better. When Derek made the vague threat of turning him against his will. What he said, implying like he was that woman. The way his face just dropped. It was as if Stiles had ripped the other man's heart out. He knew that there was no taking it back.

Derek had run, unwilling to hear any sort of apology he had to offer. And he did. He wanted, more than anything, to apologize to Derek. To try and make amends for the awful thing he had said. But he was a coward. Too afraid to face the consequences of what he had done. So, he locked himself in his room. Away from the pack. They still saw each other at school. But it wasn't really the same. The sudden lack of contact had driven them near to frenzy. Erica and Isaac were the worst. The two of them actually got written up for inappropriate physical contact. Suffering a multitude of dententions. Stiles felt even worse.

They of course asked him about it. What had happened. Derek, apparently, hadn't told them anything about it. All they knew was that they had some kind of disagreement. That was it. But there was so much more to it. Derek had crossed a line in threatening to turn Stiles against his will. And Stiles had crossed a line in comparing him to Kate. They were both at fault. The both of them had hurt the other. That was the jist of it. But Stiles didn't know how to move forward. Didn't know how to say that he was sorry. And so, he said nothing. It didn't help anything.

Surprisingly, the twins had kept their distance. Ethan and Aiden, as Stiles had learned their names, were lesser of the totem pole of the alpha pack. They were certainly strong. Very much capable of being a threat. But there were two more above them. At the very least, they were being civil. Stiles handed them their asses but they didn't seem too sour about it. In the few days after said ass handing, the pack kept a steady distance from them. Always around Stiles at any given moment. Less they try something again.

Aiden had also backed away from Lydia. Whatever she said had sent him running with his tail between his legs. Stiles was rather impressed with that. The young woman was terrifying when she wanted be. Ethan and Danny were still a thing. Which was something of a concern. But Stiles had a contingency in the event that Ethan crossed the line. It involved Wolfsbane and some expertly shot arrows. He had been practicing with Allison. And he had become a rather good shot in the last few weeks.

Outside of school, he spent his time continuing the studies Deaton assigned him. The emissary had been giving him more and more work. There were more than a few of his own projects. Mainly, the use of mountain ash as an offensive weapon. It was, at its core, a defensive measure. Meant to seal and contain. Deaton had explained that time and time again. But Stiles was looking for ways to move past that. Magic was essentially the same as it was a thousand years ago. Very little had changed. The reason for that was the narrow and rigid way in which the ancient masters thought. Stiles was a bit more flexible in the matter.

It was a delicate craft, if anything else. Mountain ash was a firm, unmoving piece of nature based magic. There wasn't too much room for change. Not in the artificial sense. Stiles found that adding Wolfsbane to the mix weakened the barrier but added something else. It held the potential to not only contain the supernatural entity, but too weaken it. So long as it stayed inside the barrier. The price being that the barrier itself was compromised. Given enough time, the entity could escape. There were other methods, but this one was the one that Stiles fixated on. He knew he could solve it. Given the proper motivations.

The work was grueling and painful. Magic demanded payment. Magic demanded the bill be payed. Playing with the natural forces of the world was always dangerous. Pushing past the limits of what one could handle had….Effect. Sleeplessness was among the worst. It was impossible to get rest when you blacked out instead of sleeping. Most nights he didn't even remember losing consciousness. One second, he was working. The next, he had come to with the sun peaking at the edges of the dawn. Needless to say, he took a break. Thankfully, Lydia was there for him again.

She showed up to his house, bottle of stolen wine and a plate of obscure cheeses that only she would really enjoy. Stiles managed to get Danny to score him something as well. He didn't know much about wine, but he hoped it would be good enough for his snooty friend. They popped the cork, and enjoyed the evening. Tasting the luxuries of their youthful rebellion. His father had long conceded that he wasn't going to be the perfect son. As long as his grades didn't slip and he stayed out of trouble. Lydia was happy with the arrangement as well. It gave her an excuse to get away from her parent's squabbling.

They got through the first bottle and Stiles found himself trying to do the impossible. Trying to talk Lydia into watching Star Wars. It was an ongoing effort. He had gotten Scott to watch it only weeks earlier. This was much more of a challenge. The young woman was defiant and willful. As she always had been. Eventually though, she gave in and allowed Stiles to educate her. He tried not to be smug about it.

In the end, she loved it. Turns out, Lydia Martin identified with Princess Leia and that was damn okay in Stiles' mind. With the cheese plate gone, he moved to grab the second bottle. There was already a warm blanket wrapped around his center. That nice cozy feeling. He was just in the kitchen when he phone went off. Scott and Isaac were on their way. They of course, didn't bother asking. Pack never did. He shot them a reply, telling them to be quiet when they entered.

"We're going to have some company." Stiles said as he refilled the glasses.

"Though it was just going to be the two of us?"

"Don't get jealous on me Lyds. You can share."

"This bottle of wine costs six hundred dollars. You're lucky I'm sharing it with you."

"Good to know I have such generous friends." Lydia smiled as she took her glass. They were wine happy. Just on the right side of buzzed. Not drunk, but somewhere close to it. She would be spending the night. Most likely to get away from Jackson as well as her parents. They weren't fighting, per say. But ever since Aiden, there was a tension between the two of them. A distance that couldn't be traversed. He had asked her about it. She said it was due to Jackson's insecurity issues. Stiles didn't comment on that. He didn't like the guy. But he wasn't about to take a dig at him. Not like that. He was well versed in feelings of inadequacy.

By the time Scott and Isaac arrive, Lydia had gotten to the touchy feely part of her night. She was never that tactile of a person to begin with. But after a bottle of wine, she became something of a hugger. The look of Isaac's face when she wrapped her arms around him was priceless. Scott's as well. The two of them didn't say anything. They just sat down and politely took the glasses of wine Stiles offered. Despite the fact that they hated the stuff. Lydia didn't seem to notice.

The four of them enjoyed the last of the original Star Wars just in time for Erica and Boyd to come crashing through the door. The young she-wolf was a bit miffed that she hadn't been invited. More so that Lydia had. The two of them were…..Something. Not friends. But not enemies. They tolerated each other for Stiles' sake. He appreciated the sentiment. Erica gave an indignant huff on spotting Lydia. Lydia, in very atypical fashion, actually embraced the other girl. It was such a surprise that Erica stilled for a moment before returning it. Just like that, a bit of the tension between them dissolved. It was, it seemed a night for miracles.

It wasn't long before the wine ran out, along with the food. But no one could be bothered to go get anymore. Stiles was buzzy and tingly all over. The good kind. He managed to get Lydia off the couch and upstairs in his room. She wouldn't have appreciated waking up to a bunch of bodies atop her. She crashed down in bed after sending her mother a brief text telling her where she was. Stiles helped her get settled and left. Ignoring the young woman's protests for him to join her in the bed. She gave him that easy, relaxed smile. Yeah, no. Not happening. Not in this lifetime. The days where Stiles dreamed of that were long gone. And he wasn't about to endure Erica's snide remarks. There was enough that as it was already.

Back downstairs the others had made a suitable pile in and around the couch. They are mostly asleep at this point. Stiles makes himself a space on the far end, feet dangling off the end. Erica, even half-awake, senses him. She sort of crawls/hauls herself upwards. Laying her head against his side. Stiles runs his hands through her hair, stroking soft circles. The she-wolf purrs at the contact, making a noise very unsuited for a werewolf. Stiles resists the urge to laugh.

"We've missed you Batman."

"You see my almost every day."

"At the house, jackass. The kids keep asking for you. Wondering where their favorite uncle went off to."

"I'm just working through some stuff. I'll be okay."

"You should tell Derek that. He'd be thrilled." There it was. The elephant in the room. The one subject Stiles hoped wouldn't come up. He knew his friends were worried. Concerned what had happened between him and Derek was more than it seemed. But there were certain things that had to stay between two people. Lines had already been crossed. He didn't want to cross another. At the same time, he didn't want to leave his left out. He didn't want to make them worry.

"It's complicated Catwoman."

"Try me."

"Okay. Um…..Derek and I had a disagreement. It was after the twins came at me. I went after him when he bolted. Fixed his hands. Afterwards, he made a not so nice suggestion."

"Like what?" Erica asked, now paying full attention.

"He suggested that I take the bite so that I could better defend myself. I had already refused. He then suggested the idea that he do it without my permission."

That got her attention. Along with the other three. They were up and alert in a matter of seconds, a low growl running through the air. Stiles understood why. In the world of werewolves, turning someone against their will was a taboo. A sin. A crime. Hunters took it as a sign to move against an alpha. Other werewolves compared it to physical assault. It wasn't something that an alpha did. Not without consequence. And Derek knew full and well what they would've been. His betas did as well. Erica was the first one off the couch. Stiles grabbed her by the arm to stop her. Even though she could've easily kept going.

"I'm gonna kick his ass."

"Erica, it's two in the morning. Give it a rest."

"What he did wasn't okay Stiles. Even if he didn't actually bite you."

"I wasn't exactly that nice to him either. I may have said some not so good things."

"Like what?" Erica asked with a huff.

"I kinda, in an offhanded way, compared him to Kate."

The anger fell from the she-wolf's face in an instant. There was a lot of things that Stiles could've gotten away with. But that wasn't going to be one of them. Derek's affair with Kate was a sensitive matter. One that he entrusted the full truth of to very few. He had explained that truth when offering the bite. When he offered to make the others pack. Partly because he viewed his actions as the reason for his family's death. He wanted to make sure that they knew the risks getting involved with werewolves. He had trusted Stiles with it. And he had betrayed that trust.

"You need to make it right Batman."

"I know. I'll talk to him this weekend. I promise." Erica along with the others seemed satisfied with his response. They nestled back down into their respective positions on the couch. Trailing back into the arms of sleep. They were here, and things weren't perfect. But for the moment, they were okay.

Stiles didn't follow. There was too much on his mind. Too much to think about. Mainly, Derek. The older man continued to astound and infuriate him. He was a broody asshole with no social skills and little concern for the feelings of others. The man was rigid and silent, never really contributing in the way of conversation. Except, that was entirely true.

He turned Isaac so the young man could escape a life of abuse. So that he could have a home where he was loved and cared for. He turned Erica to free her from an illness that would've otherwise resulted in her death. Saving her from a horrific demise. Boyd was turned so that he could have a place where he fit. Where the dredges of loneliness and isolation didn't exist. Scott, for the same freedom as Erica. A means in which he could escape the limitations of remaining human. But that wasn't all.

Derek was foul tempered most of the time. He kept people at arm's length. Away from the deepest parts of him. Away from the man that Stiles knew him to be. He saw how the alpha was with the kids. Sure, he scowled and growled and grunted. But every so often, there was a hidden smile beneath it. a single moment where the broken shell of a man was whole. Where the anger, fury, and doubt melted away to reveal the person that longed to be. Stiles admired that. The sheer tenacity of it. The will that Derek held to protect and to love. Even if he wasn't willing to show it.

Stiles spent years hating himself. Wondering why he never seemed to be good enough for the world. Why his friends seemed to forget him so easily. Why every effort he made fell on deaf ears. But Derek was different. He saw Stiles for the person that everyone else seemed to overlook. More than once, he had seen the older man looking at him. Taking a few extra seconds to gaze at him. He looked away just as quickly. Stiles didn't know what that meant. But he wasn't entirely sure that it was a bad thing.

Derek Hale, the man who made him feel….Warm. It was a strange thing that nestled in his belly. Taking root in him, spreading over his heart and soul. Derek appreciated that Stiles was human. Derek appreciated that he often took too much on. And yes, him threatening to give the bite without consent crossed a line. But, in his mind, it was an option. Because Derek had lost enough. Derek had suffered enough. He wanted to see those whom he loved safe and away from harm. He just went about it in all the wrong ways. And Stiles was wrong in his reaction.

It was nearly three in the morning when he pulled out his phone. Derek was most likely asleep. Tired from the day, resting his weary mind. Stiles probably should've waited until the morning. Waited until he had time to think about what he was going to say. What kind of apology he was going to offer. He had to choose his words carefully. The distance between him and Derek was already extensive enough. Stiles didn't want it to grow. Even still, he sent a simple, one line text before he could convince himself otherwise.

_"We need to talk."_ He stared at his phone for what felt like an eternity. The clock ticked away, the dawn over approaching. He was just on the verge of giving up when his phone chimed, alerting him to a message.

_"K." _It was the most simple and generic response possible. Stiles took it as a sign that Derek was nervous too. Perhaps they could get through this without being complete assholes. They just had to talk.

_"See you soon, Sourwolf." _Stiles knew that Derek hated that nickname. But also secretly loved it. He didn't bother waiting for a reply. Putting his phone away, he nestled deeper into the couch, willing himself to sleep. It found him soon enough, wrapping him gently. His eyes fluttered shut as he was surrounded by his friends. By his pack. It couldn't have been more perfect.


	19. Chapter 19

Derek was nervous. For the first time in a long time. Stiles was coming over later in the day. It would the first time they'd seen each other in over two weeks. They hadn't had any sort of communication since their fight. And the stress of it showed.

When Derek showed back up to the house reeking of anger, stress, and pain…There was a reaction. His betas crowded him, making a huddle. They didn't even say anything. They just embraced their alpha, trying their best to comfort him. To his credit, he didn't cry. At least, not in front of them. He wasn't the type to show that side of himself to others. And he certainly wasn't about to start now.

The impromptu puppy pile lasted over an hour. After which, Derek got up and left for his room. He politely asked his betas not to follow. That didn't stop them from meddling though. The lot of them started calling and texting Stiles, asking what had happened. Much to Derek's surprise, the young man had ignored them entirely. It was very much unlike the Stiles he had to come and know over the past few months. Normally, he was all for talking. But now, after their fight, he was on radio silence.

There had been no calls. No text. No form of communication. Derek understood why. Stiles was mad at him. And he was mad at Stiles. What they had said to each other…Pack didn't do that. Pack was supposed to be there when no one else was. When the world seemed to turn on its head, pack would stand with you. The both of them had made the mistake betraying that loyalty. And now, there was a brokenness to them. One that Derek didn't know how to fix.

The lack of communication was a stressor. With Ethan and Aiden still at the school, his betas were at constant risk. Derek had given some that to pulling them from their classes. But that would've brought too much attention. Isaac was a foster kid living in a new home. For him to be withdrawn would've enquired a social worker poking around where they couldn't afford one. Erica, Boyd and Scott would've also drawn attention. Four students leaving at the same time, ones that were all associated with the others, would've gotten the wrong parties involved. Namely, Stiles.

His father being the sheriff was still something of a concern for Derek. He'd given plenty of thought to the idea of bringing the man into the pack. It would've done them some good having a top law officer in their corner. Would've been helpful regarding the matter of the alpha pack. No need for fangs and claws when you had an entire police department at your back. That being said, if they weren't at their side, then they'd be against them.

Revealing the truth to humans was always a risky business. One that Derek handled with the upmost caution. Sometimes, a bit too much. He had waited far too long a time to reveal the truth to Stiles. And it had cost him and the pack. Now, he had to fix something that he had broken. Again. And this time, he was worried that there was no fixing it.

The day Stiles was set to arrive, Derek was a bundle of nerves. Being the alpha, he tried his best to be composed and collected. It was an ongoing effort. The kids weren't told that Stiles was coming over. There would've been hours of screaming and restless werewolf energy. Derek loved his pack mates' kids, like they were his own. But he didn't need them running around, screeching to high heaven. So, he and Laura decided that it would be a surprise. For everyone involved.

Erica was the first to arrive. She always got to the house early on Saturdays. Boyd wasn't far behind him. The young man kindly handed Derek a latte and a donut. Scott came in, dredged down by sleep and annoyance. Allison had started coming over when Chris provided updates to the situation regarding Deucalion. It was a big deal for him. The young man had moved past Allison. But it was still a bitter reminder of what could've been. They were perfectly amicable towards one another. That didn't mean there wasn't tension. Luckily, Isaac was there to diffuse it.

The two of them had been growing closer. In a way that Derek didn't quite understand. It wasn't that much of a concern. If it developed to something beyond that of being friends and pack, so be it. His only concern was how the both of them were dealing with it. There was enough going on in their lives that the added mix of possible romance wasn't exactly ideal. But that was teenagers for you. Shit happened.

The sound of Stiles' battered Jeep pulling into the drive sent a shiver of excitement down Derek's spine. He knew the moment that the engine cut off, the house was going to explode in frenzy. The kids, of course, were the first to the door. Stiles barely had time to get in before he was being crushed by a mass of tiny werewolf bodies. There was screaming. There was clamoring. Stiles barely had any room to get a word in.

It took a little under half an hour, but the kids eventually calmed down. When the last of them had been pried from Stiles' legs, Laura made her way over. There was a strange sort of tension in the way she walked. Derek knew she was just as upset about Stiles not being around as the rest of them. But he had no idea just how upset she truly was. He certainly didn't expect his sister to smack Stiles.

There was an audible crack and the room fell silent. Every breath was baited, every word locked into a lead bound tongue. Laura never used physicality as a means for discipline. Ever. Sure, she got angry. Like any alpha, there were times when she lost her temper. But she had never once struck any of her betas. Normally, she just smashed whatever inanimate object was closest. So for Derek to watch her smack one of his betas, there was a tension that wrapped around his spine.  
His first instinct was to retaliate. His next one was to demand answers. But Laura gave them without the need to ask.

"Don't worry, he got the same one for what he did to you. Don't you ever, EVER hurt each other like that again? Understood?" Stiles could only nod as Laura walked away in a huff. She was angry. But also strangely sad.

Derek didn't quite understand the meaning behind the slap. She had done so to him when he told her the truth. That he suggested to Stiles that he turn the young man against his will. But that had been a logical response. That wasn't something alphas did. But striking Stiles…That was something else. He was human. Pack he was, and still under the same rules. But matters regarding him were handled differently.

Derek didn't bother waiting until the rest of the room breathed. He made his way over to Stiles. To offer some kind of apology for what happened. He was of course, cut off.

The betas swarmed their friend and pack mate. At the very least, they were a bit more careful than the kids. But they still had a bit to learn when it came to personal space. The embrace lasted several minutes before Stiles was pulled towards the living room. Apparently, it was movie time.

Derek tried his best to not growl in frustration. The betas knew why Stiles was here. Knew that they needed to talk. But Derek, at the same time, knew that the next few hours were important. Stiles had been away from the house for far too long. There was a lot of catching up to do. So, he let his betas rope Stiles into some kind of sci-fi marathon. He allowed himself to melt into the background, away from the general group. As he always did. But, much to his surprise, Stiles wasn't having any of it.

He dragged Derek over to one of the couches and forced him to sit with the others. They had, of course, watched movies many times. But Derek normally occupied a chair for himself. He wasn't one to be smothered. But there wasn't any room for debate this time around. Stiles forced him down, and told him to get comfortable. And comfortable he was.  
Derek, for the first time in a long time, let himself enjoy the scent of another person. Not in the pack way. But instead, in a much more intimate way.

Stiles smelled of things that defied sense and reason. An orchard in the snow. Green and sharp. Wind over the morning tide. Bright, clean. Pure. Derek always liked that. He felt his wolf rumble with happiness and content. It knew that Stiles was back. And for the moment. They were in a place where they could be pack again. It was shaky and a little frightening.

But the tension between them had dissolved. If only for a moment. They still needed to talk. To have that conversation about their mistakes. But that could wait. Star Wars was on. And Derek was more than happy to listen to Stiles ramble on about the movies' history.

Four hours in, and Derek was ready to nod off. He found himself struggling to stay awake. Stiles jabbed him in the ribs, jolting him awake. The alpha gave the young man a pointed glare of annoyance. Stiles just smiled that shit eating grin of his. Like he always did. He then jerked his heads towards the stairs, signaling for them to get up.

Derek complied, following the younger man to the privacy of the upstairs. They didn't say anything as they ascended. Stiles' posture was a tad stiff, a rigidity in his spine. He was nervous as Derek. That was something of a comfort. If a bit on the strange side. As things had been as of late.

When they shut themselves in one of the rooms, Stiles' scent changed ever so slightly. It became riddled with the acrid stench of anxiety. It was never a good smell on anyone. But on Stiles, it was particularly fetid. Derek didn't like. At all. More so that he was the reason behind it. That he was the reason for Stiles being so frightened and on edge. He wanted to say something. Anything to diffuse the tension. But Stiles beat him to it.

"I'm an asshole." Derek didn't know what to say to that. How to respond. There was no context to the statement. No reason for why Stiles had made the proclamation. It was a recurring trend with the young man.

"I mean, you're an asshole to. But I shouldn't have said what I said. Comparing you to her. That was wrong and shitty and so many other kinds of messed up. So I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm sorry." The apology was heartfelt and genuine. It held no trace of lie or deception. It was honest, god given apology. Stiles meant it.

"Apology accepted. And I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…Alphas, we don't do that. The bite is a gift, one that has to be accepted. To force it on someone…It's wrong." Derek said with his eyes cast down. There was still a modicum of shame that tainted the very idea of what he had threatened. What he had tried to do.

"Still wondering why that was even a thought that went through your head." Stiles, in his usual fashion, was upfront and blunt. As he always was and would be. There was a part of Derek that both respected and appreciated that.

"It…The wolf doesn't like weakness. In itself or in those it views as pack. There's an inherent weakness in humans. Fact of the matter is, we're stronger. Faster as well. Not to mention the healing. As dickish as that sounds.

"It does sound pretty dickish. But I am more than capable of taking care of myself. Plus, I already explained why I didn't want to become a werewolf."

"Because it would take away from who you were." Derek said.

Stiles didn't answer. He just gave a silent nod of affirmation. But Derek knew something was wrong. His hands were balled into fists. His arms tense and firm. He wasn't angry per say. Frustrated was a more accurate term. A sort of stiff upset that brought about dark and unpleasant things. Derek understood the feeling.

"Scott and the others…They benefited from it. Isaac and Erica got the confidence they needed. Boyd found friends. Scott overcame his asthma. Me, I'd still be the same hyperactive little shit that talked too much. Just a little furrier. People like me aren't supposed to be werewolves. We're supposed to stay human. To protect the werewolves when the werewolves are too stupid to protect themselves."

"That's an interesting way of putting it."

"I know that you guys worry about me. That I will always be at risk of injury. But I will always be the one who stands ready and waiting. To fight and protect my friends. I didn't exactly want to be in the world of werewolves. But now that I'm here, I don't plan on going anywhere any time soon." Stiles said firmly.

That, right there, was the man that Derek admired. Stiles acknowledged that, as a human, he was never going to be as strong as they were. Or as fast. Or anywhere near what they were capable of. But still, he was unafraid. Undeterred by the sheer danger of it all. And it was in that moment, Derek's perspective of him changed.

Stiles started off as an annoying teenager that talked too loudly and interrupted the function of his daily life. In the beginning, he was a threat. A danger to who they were as werewolves and as a pack. Derek didn't trust him. Or like him very much. But now, things were different. Stiles was no longer the frantic young man that Derek had met all those months ago. Now, he was different. Not just in the way he was mentally. He was differently on a physical level as well.

His shaved head was gone. A tussle of chestnut brown hair laying in elegant strands. Weeks of training with Chris had shown their results. Broad shoulders slimed to a narrow waist. Still hidden under layers of flannel, but there all the same. There was a sculpted sort of rigidity to him now. The world had tried and tested him. He had been bent and broken and reshaped into something new. Something that was far more than he was.

Derek couldn't view his as some kid anymore. There was no going back. Stiles had changed. For the better. And Derek didn't know how to feel about it.

Stiles made him feel…Comfort. As sort of safety and certainty that wasn't there before. It wasn't like anything he felt with his betas. They were pack in a different way. A more primal way. Stiles was something visceral and honest. An organic component in the daily life of Derek Hale. A piece that fit into a place that he didn't even know existed.

There was a place that Stiles occupied that Derek had long since accepted as empty. As piece of him that was meant to be a bereft abyss of nothingness. Now, that abyss was gone. And Derek realized, Stiles was much more than pack.

It was a strange notion, to acknowledge such things. Derek had rather warped views of love. Misconstrued notions of what it was supposed to truly feel like. With Kate, she took what she wanted without an ounce of apology.

With soft hands and supple breasts, she told Derek that she loved him. Gentle touches of reassurance, and shameless sex. That was the foundation of their relationship. If one could've even called it that. But now, Derek realized, what Kate was, what she gave him…That wasn't love. It was manipulation and coercion. Stiles, that's what love was supposed to be. Devotion. Adoration. Loyalty. But Derek knew that Stiles didn't feel the same way. That he couldn't.

So, as they stood there, contemplating the meaning behind each other separately, and as a whole, Derek knew. Stiles was someone who deserved a person who didn't come with the weight of trauma on their souls. Someone he didn't have to heal or carry on his shoulders. That was the truth of it. Derek loved Stiles. It was an undeniable fact. But Stiles didn't deserve that kind of baggage or burden. And so, Derek made sure that he wouldn't ever have to have it. One way or the other, Stiles wouldn't be shackled by his pain.

"You okay there Sourwolf? It looks like you've had an aneurysm.

"Yeah, just thinking about some things."

"Like what?" Stiles asked.

"Bringing your dad and Scott's mom into the pack. The both of them are already involved. Plus, as pack, they could be useful. Your dad is the sheriff, and Melissa is a nurse."

"Makes sense. I don't like lying to my dad. And I know Scott's running out of excuses. So them knowing would be helpful."

Derek nodded his affirmation. The sheriff and Melissa were perhaps the most dangerous possible additions. Younger people had an easier time accepting the idea that werewolves were indeed a real thing. It would be risky, but worth it. If they were anything like their children, the two of them would transition well. If not…Derek would cross that bridge when he came to it.

He told Stiles he would make the arrangements for the reveal. To let the both of them know the truth. They were leaving the room when Stiles phone pinged. The young man opened the message. And Derek watched as the color drained from Stiles' face. There was a moment where the world stopped, where Derek could only hear the panicked beating of the other man's heart. Then, he spoke.

"Lydia and Jackson are in the hospital. Something attacked them." Derek didn't need to ask what it was. Or rather who. Deucalion couldn't reach Stiles. So he had gone after the next best thing. The people outside the pack. The ones who couldn't defend themselves. And now, he was going to pay. This was an act of war. And Deucalion had just challenged the worst possible person. One Stiles Stilinski.


	20. Chapter 20

Stiles knew he wasn't the most levelheaded person to ever walk the earth. He was loud. He was impulsive. More often than not, he was just on the wrong side of hyper. Looking back, the events that transpired after Lydia and Jackson landed in the hospital could've been handled a bit better.

When he arrived, he was a full hour before he could see either of them. He waited anxiously in the lobby, foot tapping a rapid rhythm on the ground. The others were there. Despite the fact that Lydia and Jackson were by no means pack. But they were there all the same. Derek stood sentinel at the door, silent and unmoving. There wasn't much else he could do. This Deucalion person had ordered the attack and that was gist of it. The alpha of alphas couldn't get to Stiles. So he went after people that were completely unprotected and unaware. Hence their current situation.

The others took turn patrolling the surrounding area, looking for any trace of the alphas. Stiles could only barely restrain himself from joining them. It was an ongoing effort. He was livid. Anger wasn't a strong enough word. Every inch of his body screamed horrible, maddening things at him. Telling him to strike back. To educate this Deucalion person on what it means to fuck with his friends. But he knew, even with all that he had learned, he wasn't really a match for the alpha. Not yet anyway.

It was a solid two hours before Melissa came out, telling Stiles he could go and see Lydia. He didn't bother saying anything. The young man bolted towards the young woman's room, desperate to see that she was alive. What he found wasn't very reassuring.  
Every visible inch of Lydia's skin was torn, slashed, or bruised. There were multiple bite marks along her torso. Thick cotton bandages covered the worst of them. Some were still bleeding. The fabric stained red. One of her eyes was black, as if she had been struck. And in that moment, Stiles felt a new wave of rage wash over him.

His breathing became erratic and panicked with the sheer force of his. He could feel his heartbeat increase to dangerous levels. Time crawled to a virtual standstill. The world bending and warping out of shape. By the time he felt the pair of hands wrap around him, he was already on the floor. Derek had come out of nowhere. He must've heard his heartbeat. Stupid werewolf hearing.

They stayed like that for a minute. Not saying anything. Stiles willed himself to calm down. To let the anger subside. To let the irrational, violent thoughts subside. Eventually, with a little coaxing from Derek, he managed to get back up. There wasn't anything he could do here. Not with Lydia still passed out. Hopefully, she would remain so. At least until the worst of the pain passed.

He made his way to Jackson's room. Derek in two. The young man was in considerably better shape than Lydia. There were far fewer scratches and tears on his skin. But there was rather prominent bite mark on his left bicep. He had been bitten. That left one of two choices. He was either going to turn. Or he was going to die. There was no in between. More so, Jackson was no aware of the reality of werewolves. Which meant there was lot of explaining to do.

Derek took it with as much grace as he could muster. Given the circumstances. The alpha carefully explained what had happened. Who the people were that attacked Jackson. And what was going to happen to him once the bite either took or failed. To his credit, Jackson didn't speak once during the explanation. For the first time in his life, the big mouthed jackass didn't have anything to say. Stiles was rather impressed with the effort it must've taken him.

When Derek was done explaining, Jackson of course had many questions. Namely, why he and Lydia were targeted. How long werewolves had been in Beacon Hills. And the consequences if he refused to join Derek or Laura's pack. It was a process but one that the three of them handled well. Jackson decided that, if he lived, he'd give being pack a shot. As Derek explained, lone wolves didn't last long. One way or the other, Jackson would meet a cruel and painful death.  
Once their conversation was concluded, the next one popped from nowhere.

The sheriff was there, taking statements from the nurses and doctors who had attended to Lydia and Jackson. He was in the middle of writing everything down when he spotted Stiles. The man walked over, stiffly. He wasn't too happy. Stiles knew his father had been suspecting him of lying as of late. Now, all of those lies were coming to a head. Hopefully, he could explain things before he was arrested. Derek, thankfully, took the helm.

The found a private room where they could talk without anyone hearing. At the word werewolf, the good sheriff scoffed and snorted derisively. Then, he watched as Derek's face shifted into something not human. That of course, is when things got interesting.

By some miracle that remained unknown, there was no drawing of a gun. Nor threat of bodily harm. The sheriff, if anything, was baffled and stunned into silence. It took a few minutes, but the man recovered enough to give a response. Much to Stiles' relief. He was almost worried that the heart he worked so hard to keep beating was going to give out.

His questions were the same as Jackson's. For the most part. Namely, what Derek's relationship to Stiles was. The alpha stuttered for a moment before explaining the intimacies of what pack was. How Stiles wasn't a werewolf, but how he was pack all the same. How he was the human element of their social group. And of Laura's. That of course led to the question of Isaac and his situation. Derek calmly explained that Derek had offered Isaac the opportunity to turn. And that he had accepted. As well as the others.

The sheriff had a hard time with that one. Turning teenagers into werewolves wasn't exactly his idea of being a good parental figure. It took further explaining on Derek's part, but he managed to convince the man that he had given the bite with permission. That of course, led him to asking about Stiles. The young man explained to his father that Derek had offered and that he had refused. That explanation seemed to appease the sheriff in regards to his son.

With the truth now out in the open, the sheriff was no focused on the people that attacked Lydia and Jackson. Derek gave the man descriptions of each member of the alpha pack. Including their names. He made a note to give the descriptions to a sketch artist that wouldn't ask any questions. There was then of course, the matter of finding and arresting them. Werewolves tended not to go down easily. And regular bullets would have little if no effect. It would slow them down. But they would recover quickly. Thankfully, Chris and Allison were still on retainer.

Derek gave the sheriff the respective numbers. Making sure that Stiles' involvement in weapons training was casually overlooked. The young man appreciated it. He had enough to worry about. When the sheriff left, Stiles made his way back to the lobby to fetch some coffee. It was burnt and bitter as hell. But the burn of it was good. Plus, with the adrenaline crash, he needed the caffeine. Derek took a cup as well. Which surprised Stiles. The man was a notorious food snob.

They sat and sipped in idle silence. Not having anything to say to the other. At this point, words were useless. But Stiles did think. He thought of one Derek Hale. Their relationship was a strange one.

Their first meeting was met with anger, fear, and a general sense of mistrust. And as Derek began turning his friends, things didn't improve. Stiles felt isolated and cut off. Alone in the world. When the truth of things was revealed, he the way he viewed Derek changed. And not in a good way.

The fact that he had gotten away with punching an alpha werewolf was something he should've been thankful for. He managed to walk off without a scratch. After that, things did get better. In their own way. He saw his friends and how they had all blossomed in the pack. How the layers of shyness, insecurity, and fear seemed to vaporize. And it was all because of Derek. The older man was gruff, brooding, and a little bit of an asshole. But Stiles knew there was more to him than that.

Underneath the tense silence and ragged edges, there was a softness to Derek Hale. A warm, cloudy inside that showed itself on the rarest occasions. It came out when Tristan was crying from his teeth growing in. And Derek's first reaction was to pick the little werewolf up to comfort him. It came out when the betas had questions, no matter how stupid. And how Derek answered each and every one of them. It showed itself when Derek let himself fall asleep, daring to be in a state of venerability. When, after so many years of pain and loss, Derek was indeed broken. But he was not cruel.

And that was the truth of it. There were many different ways, many different people Derek could've become. He could've been cold and withdrawn. Hollow and bereft. Or he could've been mericiless and without consequence. But instead, he was gentle and kind. With ease and trepidation in the same moment, he was kind. Against all the odds, Derek Hale was kind. And Stiles loved that about him. He loved Derek Hale.

It came in that slow, unintentional way. Falling in love wasn't something that followed a set of rules or any ordained path. It was organic and free moving. And that's what had happened with Stiles. Without even realizing it, he had fallen in love. Really fallen in love. It was nothing like what he had felt for Lydia. Where it some overbearing and obsessive crush. This was something else entirely. And Stiles didn't know what to do. He knew that Derek didn't feel the same way. So, he was going to keep quiet about it. At least, where his feelings were concerned. However, regarding the matter of his friends, he refused to remain silent.

He discarded his now empty cup. Telling Derek that he was going home. The alpha offered to escort him. But Stiles told him it was fine. They needed someone here to watch Jackson and Lydia. And the others had to work on finding the alphas. Stiles assured the older man that he would be fine. That he would text him when he got home. Only, he wasn't going home. Not yet. He had very different destination in mind.

The ride to Deaton's was short one. Stiles kept to the speed limit. But there no traffic, so her arrived in record time. The office was closed, but he had long since made himself a key. Entering was no issue. The vet/emissary seemed unsurprised by his entrance. They had been practicing more and more lately. And it wasn't uncommon for Stiles to just drop by unannounced. But he wasn't here to learn. He already had in mind what he wanted to do. But first, there were some questions that needed answering.

" , how can I help you?"

"Did you know about the alpha pack?" The question was blunt and to the point. Stiles wasn't in the mood to mince words or beat around the bush. Deaton was going to answer him. And he was going to do it now.

"Yes. And I informed Derek and Laura as such."  
"Did you know what they wanted?"

"The same as Deucalion always has. More power. A new alpha to add to the ranks. Derek is the prime canadite." Deaton said.

"How so?"

"He's been an alpha for less than a year. Had his betas less than six months. In Deucalion's mind, it would be easier to kill them and become a member. As such."

"Derek would never do that to us." Stiles said firmly.

"Your unwavering faith is to be admired. But even the strongest of men can be tested beyond their reach. and were only the beginning. Deucalion doesn't back down and he doesn't surrender. He will find a way to reach his goals. Or die in the process."

Stiles shared the sentiment. Deucalion, being unable to target him, had went after those who couldn't defend themselves. So, now he was going to teach the man a lesson. A painful one at that. Deaton had everything he needed and then some. There were many plants and herbs that could do harm to a werewolf. Wolfsbane was just one of them. But he wasn't intending to kill anyone. Not today. Just cause them an equal amount of pain. As had been inflicted on Lydia and Jackson.

He gathered what he needed and started mixing. It was a quick process. One that he prided himself on. When it was all said and done, he made his way out of the door, knowing what came next. Deaton, of course, had to try and stop him. Stiles gave the man a pointed glare.

" , I understand your anger. But retaliating will do no good. Deucalion won't take it lying down. And where he's concerned, you will be the one to pay. One way or the other."

Stiles nodded in understanding. But was undeterred. Deucalion had hurt his friends. As strange as it was to call Jackson a friend. More so, if he was willing to go after them, there was nothing to stop him from going after Danny. Or anyone else. Stiles wanted to send a message. One that would resonate loud and clear.

Back in the Jeep, he sent out a group text saying that he was home. All of the pack answered. Saying that they would be over sometime later. Stiles could only hope that Deaton would keep his mouth shut. The man was either entirely useless or impossibly helpful. The moment Derek knew that he was up to, he would track down Stiles and stop him. Stiles made it a point to find out what he needed to know before that happened.

He had installed a police scanner in the Jeep years ago. It wasn't exactly a legal fitting. But he wanted to keep an ear out for his dad on those long nights. Now, it would be his source for information. Derek had given a description of the twins' bikes to the sheriff. There was an APBP out for them. The moment he heard anything, he would be off like a rocket. Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long.

There were two call-ins for bikes matching the description. One in a residential district, in the nicer part of town. The other, in the old factory section. Stiles knew the one in the residential side was Ethan visiting Danny. The other was no doubt Aiden. Stiles knew who he was going for.

The industrial district shut down years before he was born. It stood rusted and ruined. Mainly, it was used by the homeless and bereft. People to strung out on whatever drugs they were using. It made perfect sense to use it. The place was isolated and generally had very little police presence. Plus, the decades of chemicals and refuse would hide their scents. Making them difficult to track. Stiles had to hand it to Deucalion. The man knew how to hide.

This time, Stiles did speed. The police were too busy looking for the members of the alpha pack. They weren't going to bother him. When he arrived, there were two people outside. One of them was Aiden. The other was a raven haired female with no shoes. They appeared to be arguing about something. Somewhat loudly. Stiles didn't care. He threw the Jeep into park, marching towards the two of them. They stopped bickering long enough to notice. Aiden made his way over, eyes shifted. Fangs started to come out. It was an obvious threat. Stiles responded with one of his own.

The young alpha hadn't learned his lesson from last time. Stiles was still full of anger and very much unpredictable. When he launched the powder towards the other man, he didn't see it coming. It wasn't mountain ash or Wolfsbane. In fact, Stiles had made a point to avoid using them. It was something far worse. The effect was instant and rather satisfying.

Aiden collapsed to the ground, screaming in pain. He rolled around, scratching at his eyes. Begging for relief. Stiles was so busy enjoying it, he didn't notice the raven haired female launch for him. She grabbed him by the throat, holding him off the ground. Her eyes were blaring red in anger. Stiles was more than happy to give her a smile.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Stiles." He managed to wheeze out.

"Seeing as you're about to die, I don't care."

"You might want to. What I threw in his face isn't just gonna go away. It'll take a while. But it will kill him. Well, his mind at least." The raven haired female dropped him down rather unceremoniously. Stiles sputtered for air, happy to be free of her hold.

"Explain." she demanded.

"It's a lovely mix of henbane and Deadly Nightshade. Along with some other not so nice things. It's essentially a toxic psychoactive substance that makes a person experience their worst fears. As it takes hold, it becomes harder to remove. It attacks the brain just as fast as it can push it out. Sends the entire body into complete sensory panic."

"Well isn't that something?"

The voice belonged to a man who had appeared silently. He was Stiles' height, with a chiseled jaw and sunglasses. He walked with a cane, and seemed to hesitate when he moved. The man was blind. And he was also the one who was responsible for the attack of Lydia and Jackson. This was Deucalion. In the flesh. Shame Stiles only had one more dose of the powder. Killing an alpha bare handed wasn't something he had the skill to do. Not yet anyway.

"You must be Stiles." the man said.

"Must I?"

"Ha! Ethan told me about your little tendency of having a smart mouth. I must say, for a human, you're rather impressive. First, you managed to escape the two of them, and now, Aiden's on the verge of psychosis. You are something."

"Good to know that I've impressed you. Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, stay the hell away from my pack and my friends."

"And if I refuse?" Deucalion asked coyly. The man was smiling. Smiling as one of his alphas lay on the ground, writhing in pain. It was a cold, dead thing. It sent a shiver down Stiles' spine. But he wasn't about to back down.

"Hurt them and you will regret it. This…This is child's play. There are agonies I can inflict that make this seem like a sugar coated dream. So this is your only warning, back the fuck off."

Stiles could feel the color drain from his face. Feel his heart start to race. This was a standoff he couldn't win if it came to blows. But Deucalion didn't seem mad. In fact, he was still smiling.

"You know, I can smell your fear. I can hear your heart. But you know what else, I can tell that you meant every word you said. And that's what impresses me the most. Your sheer and unwavering loyalty. You'd make an excellent wolf."

"No thanks. I'll be leaving now. Wash out his eyes and give him a large dose of lavender. It'll counter effect the toxin. Or, at least it should."

"Excellent. Kali, take Aiden inside. We have much to discuss." The raven haired female, Kali, did as she was instructed. Deucalion followed behind her. Before disappearing into the abandoned factory, he gave Stiles one final smirk. He felt that same icy feeling in his spine as he made his way back to the Jeep. He drove away, swallowing down the panic building in his chest. He got out alive. This time. The same might not be said when Derek found out. Oh, well. There were worst ways to die.


	21. Chapter 21

Derek considered himself an intelligent individual. He was tried and tested. Learned in the ways of the world. He had more than enough know how to make it through life. Which is why he should've know better.

After Stiles took off towards the hospital, Derek coordinated with Laura and put the betas on alert. The alpha pack had made a move against two people outside the pack. Two people that couldn't be protected. So now, they were going to make sure it didn't happen again. He sent Isaac and Boyd to scour the town. Looking for any trace of the alphas. Erica and Scott went and circled the woods, making sure that no one could get past. Laura was staying at the house with her betas and the kids. Odds were, the attack was the foundations for a trap. And Deucalion would make a move with Derek distracted.

And he was. Distracted. He had never seen Stiles quite this upset. Sure, the young man had random outbursts from time to time. But that didn't mean he was angry. That was just part of his personality. But when he got the call…Derek had never seen a human react quite like that. Stiles acted rather like a werewolf. Taking off in a frenzy, towards his friends. Needing to see them. Derek could only hope that he calmed down.

Once they arrived at the hospital, things were no better. Lydia and Jackson were both still being seen to. So there was no admittance to see them. Stiles was a ball of nervous energy as he waited. Tapping his foot on the ground, never sitting still. Derek wanted to try his best to comfort him. But he was walking the perimeter of the hospital, looking for any signs of the alpha pack. As well as trying not to lose his mind.

He fucking hated hospitals. Hated their cold, dead smell. Coupled with the scent of dying men and women. The smell of misery and pain. It brought back uncomfortable memories. Of ashen flesh and burnt hair. Too much noise and too much movement. People telling him it was going to be alright. That everything was going to be okay. That his sisters were fine. And that someone was tending to his uncle. But that did little to appease him. The rest of his family was dead. Burned alive for his sins. And ever since that night, Derek had come to know a profound hatred for hospitals.

He was restless the entire time he was there. Stiles didn't seem to notice. If he did, he chose not to comment on it. Derek was grateful either way. Thing were still a bit tense between them. They had an understanding with one another. But there were still things left unsaid. Things that Derek wanted to tell him. But that he had no right to say. So, he didn't.

When Melissa finally came back to admit them to the rooms, Stiles didn't say anything. He just took off in a dead sprint. Hurrying towards his friends. What they found was beyond words. Derek had met cruel alphas before. Werewolves who were the stereotype. The one the Argents had hunted for centuries. Deucalion had proved himself to be one.

Lydia lay unconscious, dead to the world. It was not a peaceful sleep. The entire room was saturated with scent of pain and blood and torn flesh. There were jagged marks all along her body. Numerous indentations of teeth where the man had bitten her. The fact that she was still alive was nothing short of a miracle. If she survived the bite, she would turn. Her being young and in good health gave her the best possible odds. At this point, all they could do was wait.

Stiles was barely restraining himself. Derek could hear his heart. Erratic, beating with anger and sadness. The smell of salt clinging to the corner of his eyes. Derek mirrored the sentiment. An attack had been made on the friends of outside of his pack. For what reason, he didn't know. Obviously, it was a play. Something to force him out. To make a move. It was four alphas against two. Laura's betas were busy protecting the kids. The ones who couldn't defend themselves. This was a move to make Derek play into whatever trap Deucalion was setting. He wasn't going to fall for it.

When they left Lydia's room, Stiles is somewhat calmer. But not by much. The fact that Jackson is in better condition helps. The young man had been sliced through rather badly. But margins less than his girlfriend. The cuts are clean and precise. Not sloppy or random. They were done with purpose. This was Kali's work. Easily. She had also bitten him. There was much less blood, so Derek was better able to gauge the scent. Jackson was going to turn. Soon. Alphas like Kali made quick work in that area.

The explanation itself was easy and relatively straightforward. Jackson just nodded and kept silent. Asking only of Lydia. Derek couldn't give him a definitive answer. Time was the master here. Either she would turn. Or he would die. There was no in-between. They could only hope for the best.

The sheriff was the next one they had to deal with. Derek was far less certain of that outcome. The man was already on edge from two teenagers being attacked in his town. More to that they had looked like animal attacks. But had the precision of human involvement. The man may have been old. But he was far from foolish. He caught wind of something going on between Derek and Stiles right away. The matter of Derek and the others being werewolves was something of process to explain.

Much like anyone else, the man accepted the truth when it was presented to his face. Much to Derek's surprise, he didn't have a gun drawn on him. The good sheriff was calm and level headed throughout the entire ordeal. Patiently listening with razor sharp attention. At least they had that going in their favor. In the end, the man asked the obvious questions. Why Derek and Laura were here? Why Derek turned the others? Who was responsible? Derek answered each and every one with the truth. At this point, the sheriff could only help them. And having an entire police department on their side couldn't hurt.

With the details in hand, the sheriff issued an APB for the alpha pack. At least, for Deucalion and Kali. They would be covered in evidence. Blood and sweat and bits of Jackson and Lydia that would put them in a corner. The twins were another matter. Derek didn't scent them on either Lydia or Jackson. Which meant that they likely had nothing to do with the attack. Didn't mean they were innocent. But he couldn't give the sheriff anything that could lead to an arrest. Just enough to have them brought in for questioning. That, at the very least, would remove them from Beacon Hills. If only for a few hours.

Derek finished off by placing sheriff in contact with Chris. The man wasn't going to be happy with law enforcement being brought in on such short notice. But they could hash it out later. The sheriff needed to be properly armed. With Wolfsbane bullets and the like. Simple lead wasn't going to be enough. Not against Deucalion. He was already willing to attack two innocent teenagers. It wasn't going to be long before he moved to the willingness to attack police.

After they were through talking, Derek followed Stiles back into the lobby. On his way, he saw Scott talking to Melissa. At this point, it was also a wise move to bring her in on things. Her being kept in the dark was dangerous. As well as stupid. The woman was fierce, but against an alpha, she was defenseless. Now, she would have a grasp of things. Be able to properly prepare. Derek wondered if she knew how to fire a gun. If not, Chris was always happy to take new students.

Stiles didn't say anything as he handed Derek a crappy cup of hospital coffee. It was the literal worst. But they weren't drinking it for the taste. They were drinking it because it was something to do. A motion. A sense of something that bordered on the edge of familiar. The day had tired them. And there was still the night. They would all be on high alert. No one was going to sleep. Except Stiles.

He made some off handed comment about needing rest. Derek tried to escort him. Or send one of the betas. But Stiles shrugged him off, saying he would be fine. That he would text Derek when he got home. It took everything in his power to agree. Every instinct he had was screaming at him not to. But, he promised Stiles not to act an ass. Not to lord his place as alpha over him. So, he didn't. And as it turns out, he knew he should have.

Derek arrived back at the house less than an hour later. Jackson was being discharged. Derek told the young man to come by the house so that they could keep an eye on him. Deucalion left him alive for a reason. They needed to make sure that the man wasn't coming back. He arrived shortly afterwards. Stiles had sent a text saying he was safely at home. Derek wanted to make sure.

He squared things away with Laura, making sure the house and the perimeter was secure. Afterwards, he set up to leave. Only, Stiles got there first. Derek didn't like the state in which he arrived. There was another set of marks around his throat. Dark bruising in the shape of fingers. Darker than the last ones. His eyes were bloodshot. And he smelled slightly of pain. And of some kind of poison. It was sharp and cut through everything else. Derek almost didn't notice the most important scent.

The scent of another alpha. Specifically, Kali. It was her hands that had been around his throat. She had attacked Stiles. And somehow he managed to get away. Relatively unharmed. In that moment, Derek felt every cell in his body explode with anger. It was a fire red sensation that consumed him. Mind, body, and soul. Stiles seemed to notice. He took Derek's hand in his, leading him up the stairs. Away from the pack. Where they could be alone.

When they got in the room, Derek moved away from Stiles. Unwilling to risk his safety. He felt his claws prick the tips of his fingers. Fangs filling his mouth. Stiles didn't seem to upset or frightened. After a few minutes, Derek managed to calm down. Partially in thanks for Stiles' sense of calmness. It didn't last long. Stiles decided to speak.

"I did something stupid." It was a confession as much it was a fact.

"And what was that?" Derek asked.

"I tracked down Aiden. Used the police scanner in my Jeep. Gave him a little payback."

"In what form?"

"Psychoactive poison thrown into his eyes. Kali, the other one wasn't too happy. Deucalion seemed pretty amused though." Derek's breath halted at Stiles' use of the name. It meant that the mad alpha had been there. That Stiles had been within striking distance. And yet, he was unharmed. Despite assaulting one of them. Deucalion had let him walk away. As grateful as Derek was for that, he was still angry.

"And what if they had retaliated then and there? What then?"

"They hurt my friends. Because they couldn't get to me, they went after someone I cared about."

"That means you put yourself in danger? Why not call one of us? Let us know where they were? Why go alone?" Derek asked. His voice was raised. It was obvious how he felt.

"I didn't want to be put anyone in danger. I didn't want anyone else getting hurt. I don't matter."

Derek flinched back reflexively. Stiles mattered. He mattered more than he could possibly understand. The fact that he was thinking otherwise…It hurt. Derek felt a pang somewhere in a place that had no right to hurt. As an alpha, it was his job to make his pack feel whole. To make them feel like they belonged. Stiles felt like he didn't. Like he was expendable. Like he was worthless.

"You matter Stiles. More than you can understand."

"You keep saying that. Everyone keeps saying that. But everyone also keeps asking why I haven't asked to be turned. Laura, Scott, the others. They all want to know why I can't go through with it. Why I want to be human. You even threatened to do it against my will."

"That was wrong. I apologized, explained why. I respected your decision."

"Then why do you treat me like I'm made of glass? I can take care of myself." Stiles snapped.

"You're human."

"So you've said. Many times. That doesn't excuse it. That everyone gets to be involved but me." Derek took a breath. Trying to calm himself.

"Listen, I understand that you're frustrated. But we want to keep you safe."

"Stop using my humanity as an excuse to be an ass. There's another reason."

"There really isn't Stiles."

"Stop fucking lying to me. You are the worst of them. You complain every time I get involved. Look at Chris like he's Satan every time he trains me. So why? Why are you so much harder on me than the others about being safe?"

"They can heal from what you can't."

"I said stop lying, jackass."

"It's because I love you!" Derek said the words before he recognized them. Before his mind had any time to filter them. Before any though process could be made. And he regretted it. Stiles looked as if had been slapped. His face was fallen, eyes wide with something Derek couldn't quite recognize.

"You love me? After all the growling, snapping, and general apathy, you love me? After ripping me for overworking myself. After slamming me into a goddamn tree?" His voice was pitched and broken. This wasn't anger. So much as it was disbelief. Stiles didn't believe him.

"I…I don't know what else to say. I love you. I think, for a while now. I don't understand it. I don't care that I can't either. It's the first time that I feel safe. Truly safe with someone. And that's you." Stiles didn't say anything. He just stared at Derek, eyes shining with the beginnings of tears.

"Why?"

"Why what?" Derek asked.

"Why do you love me? Tell me. Find the words and tell me. Or I walk out that door and I don't come back." Derek didn't know whether or not Stiles was being serious. He was too upset. His heart to frantic. So, he decided the truth would be best.

"I love you because it's never about you. Your first thought is always for someone else. You questioned Laura when we took in Isaac. When you though your friends had forgotten you, you still fought for them. Punched an alpha werewolf in the face because of it. And you didn't care that we were werewolves. You cared about our quality of character. About who we were. Not what.

You cared about kids that weren't yours. You play with them. You cook for them. Even when you should be resting. You make time for this pack, for everyone. No matter how small or tedious. You...You place yourself on the back burner. Tending to the needs of others. Because you care. Because you genuinely care.

When you had every right not to. When you had every right to walk away. You stayed. You stayed when you could've left. And it's because you stayed that I care. That I want to keep you safe. I went about it the wrong way. And I know you may never believe me. But I am sorry. And I promise, I won't keep you from the pack anymore. Ever."

Derek was waiting for any kind of response. Some kind of motion that would indicate that Stiles understood what he had said. What he had confessed. To see the truth in his words. But, the young man said nothing. Save for two simple words.

"Prove it." Derek didn't know how. There were a million things running in his mind. What he could do to prove to Stiles that he cared. That he could do better. That he trusted him. And then, it clicked. There was one gesture that alphas could give. One sign that they had absolute faith in the one they loved. It was the single most profound thing that they could do. And Derek decided that he would.

He said nothing as he walked towards Stiles. And Stiles said nothing in turn. He stopped, mere inches from the younger man. It was amazing that they were so close in height. Stiles was just a hair shorter. Derek looked into those deep amber eyes. So much like a sea of stars in their own right. Then, he turned his head, exposing the long column of his throat. Alphas didn't do this. It was considered unseemly. Beneath them. But when they did, it was the surest sign of trust and devotion. It was a gesture that had no equal. And Derek had given it.

Stiles ran his slender fingers of the alpha's neck. A barely there touch. Derek shivered at the feathery embrace. Acceptance. To say, I see what you are giving and I take it as mine. I receive this gift in its entirety, and I return the favor. Only, Stiles didn't give his throat. Instead, he took Derek's chin in hand. A loose, gentle motion. Directing Derek's head back in place. They stared at each other for a long moment. Then, Derek felt Stiles' lips on his.

He imagined what it would be like to kiss him. What it would feel like. What it would taste like. He imagined some kind of fireworks going off in his head. A heat spreading across his entire body. But, it was even better than that. It was slow, and tender, and everything that Derek never thought he wanted. But it turned out to be everything he needed. Stiles tasted of summer and soft rain. Of cool breezes and clear night skies. It was unapologetic and profoundly moving. Derek did his best to stay still. To remain in place. It wasn't that much of an effort. He was too shocked to move.

Stiles parted them, eyes still open. Only, now he was smiling. That bright, all tooth grin that stretched ear to ear. He was happy. Genuinely, and completely happy.

"Just for the record, I love you to Sourwolf." Derek snorted derisively at that nickname. He had long since given up telling Stiles to stop using it. He decided to shut him up by kissing him. It was even better than the first one.


	22. Chapter 22

Things were…Strange. Good, but strange. It had been three weeks since Stiles had kissed Derek. It was unexpected in the best kind of way. He'd only ever kissed Heather. And that was in a league of its own. Derek was something else. Heather's style of kissing was hot, fast, and untempered. Derek was slower, easier. With a sort of refined grace that spoke volumes in of itself. Stiles decided that he was very okay with that.

It didn't take long to get the various reactions from the pack. Erica had a goddamn field day with it. The she-wolf screamed erratically over herself for two hours. Boyd just smiled and tried to calm his girlfriend down. Scott and Isaac basically went red in the face, sputtering. Trying not to laugh themselves to death. Stiles hit both of them upside the head for it. At least Laura was better about it.

She seemed genuinely happy about the whole thing. Happy for Derek. Concerned, but happy. Stiles knew why. The last person that Derek trusted his feelings with ended up burning most of their family alive. Even though she knew that Stiles was nothing like that, she still worried for her brother. The kids were another matter entirely. Some of the younger ones actually asked Stiles if he and Derek were going to make babies. He just walked away from that one. He wasn't going to be the one to have that conversation. Their parents could be the ones for that. Speaking of, his father had some not so nice words. Well, sort of.

As any parent with two cents to their brains, he asked if they were having sex. Stiles, as calmly as possible, explained that he and Derek had only kissed. His father explained that Derek was twenty-two, going on twenty three. And that Stiles was still in high school. There was a litany of things that he pointed out. All reasons why he shouldn't be with Derek. Under any circumstances. Him being a werewolf was only part of the reason. But there was a more understandable, obvious one.

The sheer danger factor. When Stiles had tracked down Aiden, he hadn't expected to meet the other two alphas. Kali was easy enough to read. She was a lioness in a lithe female form. Quick, agile. Relentless. She held no qualms about killing. No issue with murder. There was only one way a woman like her was going to be stopped. That kind of anger, the fury in her eyes didn't just fade away. It had to be snuffed out like a light. And Stiles knew that. He just didn't want to say it out loud. That killing her was the only viable course of action.

Deucalion was another matter entirely. He was…Different. And not in a good way. His reaction to Stiles' assault was unexpected. As far as the young man understood, alphas were highly protective over their pack. He had witnessed it firsthand with both Laura and Derek. They were fierce and unmoving forces of nature. Deucalion was different. The idea of one of his own being poisoned by a hallucinogenic toxin was amusing. The man actually laughed as Aiden lay in in pain. Screaming for all he was worth. That was something that Stiles didn't seem coming.

He was a purebred psychopath. He felt no recourse or guilt. To him, people were pieces on a chess board. Meant to be played with. And used as he saw fit. That's what the twins were. That's what Ennis had been before Derek killed him. The man's end game was obscure and somewhat clouded. But Stiles had more than a few ideas.

First, Deucalion wanted Beacon Hills for himself. It was a seat of magical energy that drew in creatures for miles around. It was a natural magnet. A place of power and prestige. It would make sense that a man who fancied himself a god would want such a territory. Men with power always wanted the same thing. More power.

The other option was far less grand. But infinitely more devastating. He wanted to recruit Derek into the alpha pack. Derek's pack was young and fragile. Bonded but untested. In Deucalion's mind, that meant he was ripe for the taking. That Derek could be swayed to kill his betas. To take their power. To become a murderer and take the mantel in the alpha pack. It was a terrifying thought that no one wanted to talk about. Derek was a good alpha. He loved his betas. And he worked well alongside Laura. But the idea of it still sent shivers down his spine. So, he said nothing.

It was a normal day when he arrived at the house. The kids burst out, tackling him to the ground. Without so much as an ounce of remorse or concern. Stiles tried his best not to be upset about it. And in the end, it really wasn't that hard. When the little hellions cleared away, Erica and the others took their turn. Stiles had learned and long since accepted that werewolves loved to touch. Jackson being the present exception.

He had handled the transformation well. Adjusting to the shift in record time. Lydia, for some reason, hadn't turned at all. It was an ever present mystery. One that no one had the answer to. Not Laura. Not Derek. Not even Deaton had any kind of explanation. But she was as cold and distant as ever. At least towards the others. She was still very amicable towards Stiles. Much to Derek's intense chagrin. The great alpha Hale was a tad on the jealous side.

Ever since the kiss, Derek had become about ten thousand times more tactile. And he did so without an ounce of shame. Stiles secretly loved and hated it. Hated it because he became the butt of Erica and just about everyone else's comments. It was an ongoing game of who could make him blush the most. But he loved it because it felt so easy. Derek would linger in the kitchen whenever he cooked. Standing behind him, arms wrapped round his waist. Nose pressed into the base of his neck. Taking long pulls of his scent.

That was another thing that Derek seemed to enjoy. In the man's own words, Stiles' scent was unique. And according to Derek, something that he thoroughly loved to indulge in. The younger man didn't quite understand the emphasis on such things. He wasn't a werewolf. But he did take pride in the fact that he could reduce Derek to a mushy pile just be being in the same room. That he had that kind of effect on him. It was even worse when they slept together.

They had yet to have sex. Or even discuss the idea of it. But Stiles was a red blooded eighteen year old with a libido that never quit. He jerked off quite a few times a day. Always away from the house and he took a shower after as well. After learning that werewolves could literally smell sex, he was in no mood for Erica's impending tirade of jokes. But that didn't mean he didn't think about it.

Derek never brought up the subject. Never pressured Stiles into doing anything. He was entirely respectful on the matter. It was hard not to think about. Yes, Stiles loved Derek for the person that he was and the manner of man. So on and so forth. But his boyfriend was also a walking example of perfection. Derek never said anything about the sudden spike in arousal whenever they shared a bed. But Stiles knew that there was more to it than just simple courtesy. And it had everything to do with one Kate Argent.

Derek had told him about her. In detail. It was the single most painful thing that Stiles had ever witnessed. The way Derek cringed at the mention of her name. As if that simple union of words were themselves poison. The way he talked about her was no better. He had been sixteen years old. And Kate was in her mid-twenties. Stiles recoiled at the idea. That any person, man or woman, would think it acceptable to take advantage of a sixteen year old in that way. But Kate had. And it left its mark.

She was forceful and unapologetic. Taking what she wanted, never giving any real concern for Derek. Or what his comforts were. The fact that he had never had sex before that only made things worse. She used him, again and again. For sex. For information. And when she got what she wanted, she had left him alone. Simpering in the ashes of his murdered family. And he had blamed himself. Taken the burden of a crime not his own, and kept it. For over six years. So yeah, Stiles wasn't going to bring it up. He didn't even know how.

His stay at the house is a short one by comparison. Derek had the pack on high alert. Along with Laura. All the betas were rotating shifts in perimeter patrol. Insuring their boundaries were safe. That Deucalion wasn't trying to make a move against them. Stiles feared for his friends. Feared for his pack. So he made sure that they were sufficiently armed.

Mixing the same poison that he had used on Aiden was difficult. The ingredients were rare and hard to come by. He had exhausted Deaton's supply of them. But somehow, he had managed to give each of them a small dose of it. Alpha wolves were resilient to damage. Harder to kill. Quicker to heal. It wasn't much. But it was as much as he could manage. He had also taken to carrying his own special blend of mountain ash. As far as his personal project went, he considered it his crowning achievement.

Through much trial and error, he had managed to make a blend that he thought provided ample protection. It was a mixture of the ash itself, along with a potent strain of Wolfsbane and black powder. The barrier it made was weaker by far than the pure comparison of mountain ash. But it was offensive as well as defensive. When ignited, it released a toxic cloud of poison that would kill any wolf that came into contact with it. More than enough to kill any alpha. Even Deucalion. Should the need arise. To comfort Derek, he informed him as such.

They still disagreed on Stiles' regard of protecting himself. When he wasn't at the house, there was an assigned patrol around his house. Day or night, there were at least two wolves guarding his door. He tried to accept it as best he could. Derek was protective by nature. Stiles understood that. But it did become infuriating not being able to go anywhere without an escort. He tolerated it as best he could.

The ride back home was short, with him being followed closely by Scott and Isaac. They ran perimeter outside his house. Sticking to the shadowy corners. Out of sight and away from Stiles' nosey neighbors. The last thing he needed was his father receiving a call about two teenagers stalking around outside his house. Things were complicated enough as is.

Taking the free time to study, he laid out the many books that Deaton had leant to him. They were on various fields and subjects. All of which Stiles was still trying to master. He various magics he was teaching himself. It was slow and arduous work to say the least. He both loved and hated it. Loved it because there was always more to learn. New things to discover. Hated it because it exhausted him to the point of madness. He knew that he needed to take it easy. No matter how much he wanted to push himself.

It seemed only hours later that he looked over at the window, seeing that the sun had gone down. It was night. Scott and Isaac were mostly likely back at the house, trying to get some sleep. There would no doubt be someone to replace them soon.

Sure enough, Stiles' window opened to reveal Derek. The older man was disgruntled and somewhat disheveled. He had been running. Not enough to sweat. But enough to exert himself. Most likely all the way from his house. That was werewolf stamina for you.

Stiles doesn't say anything. He just walks over, kissing Derek chastely. He tastes like anger and something bitter on the end. It wasn't a good one. He hated to see his boyfriend upset. So, he did the one thing he knew would make him happy.

Taking Derek by the hand, Stiles leads him over to the bed. Laying them down atop the sheets, nestling in for the night. Derek would leave before the morning. Making his way back the house to check in with everyone. He always left Stiles a note, letting him know that he was okay. But that was hours away. They had plenty of time together.

Derek lays like he always does. With his head atop Stiles' chest. Nose buried in his neck. He falls asleep with a soft sort of silence. The ease of it allows Stiles to relax just a little. He loves seeing Derek like this. The strong, ever tense alpha personality falls away. Revealing the soft marshmallow of a man he really is. It's completely fucking adorable. So unlike how he was when the first met. It felt like a lifetime ago. The days in which they distrusted one another. When they would barely tolerate each other's presence.

Now, they were something much different. In a place that didn't entirely make sense. The seed of their relationship had been planted in bitter soil. Hard and acrid. But somehow, someway, it had managed to flourish into something more. Once a small, seemingly irrelevant bud. Now a towering tree that rivaled the height of mountains. Stiles didn't really understand how they fit so well together. But they did. And that's all that mattered in the end.

Stiles eventually finds sleep himself. Able to drift off to a world where the stresses of reality faded into the abyss of nothingness. It was an easy sleep. Soft and gentle. So much that he woke when Derek began to stir. The older man was awake. Stretching the sleep from his muscles. Looking over at the clock, Stiles saw that they had been out for almost three hours. Oh well, time flies and all that.

Derek moves to get up, ready to leave and report back to the house. Stiles, in all his mischief, pulls him back down. Derek falls back to the bed, and Stiles climbs atop him. Straddling his thighs. He pins the other man's hands above his head with gentle force. And kisses him softly.

It was the kind of thing they did. Playfully kissing each other. Derek always got a thrill out of it. But they never took it past anything more. This time, however, Derek seemed to be a little more eager. He kisses Stiles back, with fervor. Almost hungrily. So unlike anything that they had done before. Stiles was very much okay with that.

Taking things one step further, he rolls his hips. Rocking them into Derek's. The older man growled low in his throat, obviously pleased. As was Stiles. That is, until he felt a slight pain in his lip. There was a slight burn of discomfort. Causing him to jolt back in shock.

Derek was off the bed in a flash. Barely keeping himself in the room. The alpha was partially shifted, fangs protruding from his mouth. Eyes blaring red. His chest heaving up and down with his breathing. He had shifted while they were making out. Stiles was unsure how he felt about that. He only knew that he kinda liked it.

"I should go." Derek said, making his way towards the door.

"Don't do that." Stiles grabbed him by the arm, pulling him. Pressing their chests together.

"I just bit you Stiles. Had it been somewhere else…If had been deeper…I could've turned you."

"But you didn't." The younger man retorted. Derek's face did that thing where it pinched. Where he was keeping quiet. Not saying anything. Stiles didn't like it when he did that.

"Don't not talk to me. You know I hate that Derek."

"It's just that…I wanted-." He couldn't finish his sentence. Almost as if he was afraid to say what he wanted.

"Just what?" Stiles asked

"I wanted the first time we…I wanted it to be special. I wanted your first time to be special."

Oh, that's what it was. Derek was afraid of tainting his virtue. It was all very romantic of him. Had it not been so very far off the mark.

"Derek not to upset you, but I'm not a virgin."

"Oh. Okay. That's, unexpected. But that wasn't the only reason Stiles."

"Then what was the other." Derek's face did the pinching again. He struggled to speak. And when he did. Stiles' heart broke

"I didn't want to be like her."

That was it. The greatest fear in Derek's mind. That he was somehow, in any way, like Kate. That he would be taking advantage of Stiles. That he was an abuser. And for some reason, that pissed him off more than anything else. That his boyfriend would ever compare himself to the likes of Kate. Her twisted brand of evil. So, he decided to not use words. But actions instead.

He shoved Derek against the door, placing his knee in-between the man's legs. Derek didn't have time to object before Stiles was kissing him. It was unrestrained. Raw and somewhat messy. But the message was clear.

"Don't ever think you're like her. Ever. I am an able minded adult capable of consenting. And whatever we do would be special. Because it would be with each other. Okay?" Derek nodded in fevered agreement.

"I just…I haven't, you know. Since her."

"You mean to tell me, that in the last six years, you haven't had sex once?" Derek nodded in a mix of shame and disbelief. But Stiles knew exactly what he wanted to do. What he needed to do. He did the one thing that he knew Derek would respond to. The one gesture that would make sense to him. He bared his throat. It was the surest sign of trust a pack member could give to their alpha. The surest sign of faith. And Derek took it.

His eyes flashed red, another growl building in his throat. He latched onto Stiles' neck, kissing the long expanse of his throat. Marking it as he went.

"I take it you like that?"

"You know I do you little shit." Derek growled.

"Then will you let me take care of you. We don't have to do anything you don't want to." Derek puzzled for a second. As if considering what he actually wanted. Then, he slipped his hand down to cup Stiles' front. Earning a sharp cry from the younger man. With the other, he locked the door. They were going to be here for a while.


	23. Chapter 23

In the six years since the fire, Derek had learned the meaning of the word loss. And it Kate Argent who taught him. The first thing he lost was his heart. She stole it away with pretty words and soft touches. Subtle suggestions and innuendo. The way she danced around him all those weeks was graceful and breathtaking. When they kissed for the first time, Derek thought he had found heaven.

The next thing she took was his virginity. It was wild and unhinged. She rode him with the fury a storm. Taking what she wanted, making no apologies. He loved every minute of it. Every time they fell into bed, Derek found himself exhausted. In the best possible way. He didn't have the insight to see how wrong it all was.

How she was nearly ten years older. That this kind of thing wasn't normal. But he didn't care at the time. Her sex was addicting. His body overridden, his instincts ignored. And it cost him. In fire and in pain. Kate Argent stole in family. Burned alive for the sin of existing as werewolves. Without so much as an ounce of mercy. He had lost all but three of his family. And he was to blame.

Laura fled with them to the other side of the country in her grief. Unable to bear the burden of their loss. Cora cried. Every night, she cried. Longing for her family. Her pack. Derek suffered in silence. Away from the knowing world. Caging himself in a way to hide his pain. Like Cora, he became bitter and cold. Shut off from that which could bring him pain.

Even after his confession, after he had bared the truth. Laura didn't hate him. Didn't cast him out like any other alpha would. She held him through the sobs. Telling him how much she loved him. How much he mattered. That it wasn't his fault. But Derek didn't matter. And it was his fault. He was the reason for their misery.

Even after they reformed the pack, things weren't the same. It wasn't the family that he had lost. Things were no better after he killed Ennis and became an alpha. In fact, it made things worse. He longed for betas of his own. Wolves either made or adopted. And it hurt. He felt shame for wanting to leave his alpha. To make his own way. After she had done so much for him.

In the end, he heeded her words. Taking them to heart and soul. And the first time he felt the connection of a new beta, there seemed to be a weight that was lifted. As he turned the others, more of the weight vanished. Alleviating the burden of his soul. It felt good. It had been a long time since he had felt truly happy. But that wasn't all. In the middle of it was on Stiles Stilinski.

He was young, hot headed. With a motor mouth and a fierceness that Derek had never seen in a human before. It wasn't anger, or rage. It was devotion. Steadfast and unwavering. Everything that Derek hadn't been. Everything that he thought he could never be. And everything that he could ever want. Stiles was loyal and kind. A calm summer wind that could just as easily lead to a raging hurricane. It confused Derek. Frightened him even. Because there was another he had felt that way about. And she murdered his family.

But as time went on, Derek saw that the only thing Stiles and Kate had in common was being human. The rest was a stark contrast. Kate was edgy, full of spirit and untempered fire. Stiles was grounded. Temperamental, sure. But in a way that stood to reason. For all the world, he was an ordinary eighteen year old. But when backed into a corner, when threatened. He was a force that had no equal. A man who could level mountains. And a man he had become.

Much like Derek, the world had tested Stiles in cruel and malicious ways. Pain was relative. Derek lost his family. His pack. Carving out pieces of his soul that could never come back. Stiles had lost his mother. The woman whom the world revolved around. She was his light. His happiness. His version of an alpha. And she died alone and afraid. As her son watched, unable to do anything.

Derek respected that. The pain that had made Stiles who he was. The man he had become after the world had taken from him. They had both lost. In ways that no person should ever have to endure. But rather than be cold or distant. Stiles was kind. Belligerent and somewhat crass. But kind. To any and all who deserved it. And that's what Derek admired the most about him. For in a world that could've made him a monster, he turned out to be a saint. In his own way.

He was terrified of his feelings. That the part of him that cost his family was still slumbering away. Afraid of what Stiles might think of him. What he might do or say should he learn the truth. But, as fortune would have it, Derek got lucky. For the first time in six years, the universe gave him a piece of happiness with no strings attached. In some way that still eluded them both, Derek and Stiles had grown to love each other. Admire one another. And that's all that mattered. Because here and now, Derek was going to let himself have the thing he wanted most. To be loved by someone whom he in turn loved.

Stiles kissed him like it was a gift. Pushing him against the door, pinning Derek's hands to his side with gentle pressure. It wasn't forceful or demanding. In fact, Derek rather enjoyed. The way that Stiles pressed their bodies together. It was a natural fit. The way they seemed to meld into on another. Derek had missed it. The warm of a person pressing against him. The intimacy of it. And Stiles seemed willing to indulge in his other desires.

The younger man shamelessly bared his throat, along Derek free reign to enjoy it. There was the sharp, musky scent of arousal. Deep, a heady. Stiles was turned on. And there was a certain pride that Derek took in that. Call him egotistical. He didn't care. This moment was his and Stiles. And he was going to take it.

He ran his tongue across the young man's skin. The salt of his sweat. The sheer deliciousness that was completely Stiles. Derek didn't bother holding back. He marked down Stiles' neck, biting with gentle ease. Enjoying the soft sounds the younger man was making as he went.

There were too many clothes. Too much restriction between them. Derek all but tore both their shirts off. Maybe he was a bit too eager. He didn't care. Stiles didn't seem to mind either. Not when Derek kissed down his neck, marking over his collarbone. Towards his chest. When he got to Stiles' nipples. The young man thrashed. In the best possible way.

Derek, never being one to know when to quit, cupped Stiles' front. Feeling the bulge that was steadily filling. He took pride that Stiles was so responsive to him. That he was this turned on. He moved to undo the man's zipper. Stiles making the same move. Derek tried not to rip through the fabric. He figured that Stiles wouldn't appreciate that very much.

When they finally managed to stumble out of their pants, the full scent of Stiles' arousal hit him head on. His length thick, and angry red. The barest tip peeking out from his foreskin. Derek didn't waste any time dropping to his knees. He gave Stiles a pointed, look. Asking for permission. The younger man was all too eager to agree.

Derek savored the moment. The desire that was coiling low in his belly. With gentle fingers, he pulled back on the foreskin, revealing the flushed pink head of Stiles' length. And a goddamn _river _of pre-come came with it. Derek didn't waste any time in tasting it. Taking the barest piece of Stiles into his mouth. It was explosive. Salty, and just a little bitter. And from the way Stiles was squirming, he was enjoying.

Having never been with a man before, Derek didn't know really what to do. So he just followed what his body told him to do. Taking slow, luscious pulls. Teasing Stiles without an ounce of apology. The younger man spouted a slew of filthy encouragement. Hands a gentle pressure on Derek's head. Not forceful or dominating. But there all the same.

Derek felt a tightness form in his spine as he dared to take Stiles deeper. Wrapping his hands around, massaging the meaty flesh of the young man's ass. It was soft, and firm in the same way. With just the lightest dusting of hair. Stiles was beautiful. And he tasted amazing. Too amazing.

He felt the itch at the back of his head. A small prickling in his gums. He retreated as fast he could. Jolting back up, he tried to move away from Stiles. Trying to hide the shift. To hide his lack of control. But Stiles wasn't having it. He grabbed Derek, turning him round. Then, he was kissing him. Shamelessly and without a care. He worked around the alpha's fangs. Nipping the plush flesh of his bottom lip. Derek's wolf goddamn keened. Bristled with pride at Stiles' complete lack of concern.

"Stiles, we really shouldn't-."

"I like you like this. Unhinged, barely hanging on. The man who has such good control slipping because he got too excited while blowing me. It's not an insult Derek. In fact, it's kind of a turn on." From the way Stiles smelled, he wasn't lying. Derek could scent the unapologetic aroma of his arousal. He really was turned on by Derek shifting while they were having sex.

"You don't mind?"

"I knew what you were before I fell in love with you. And I knew what you were from the moment we decided to have sex. I knew what that entailed. Fangs and all. Claws to. We can work on you blowing me later. Until you've calmed down. For now, it's my turn Sourwolf."

Derek didn't have time to chastise Stiles for the use of that accursed nickname. The young man hurled him onto the bed. Slipping his knee in-between the older man's legs. Forcing them apart. He went back to kissing him. Working around the shift as best he could. Nipping and licking down his jaw, pausing at his throat. A silent request.

Derek appreciated the sentiment. Wolves were sensitive about the neck. It was a weak spot. A vulnerable place. It was considered an insult to touch it without permission. But Stiles had asked. Even though that Derek had already offered it weeks earlier. That was just the kind of person he was.

The alpha nodded, hands reaching round to push Stiles into him. The young man ran his tongue along Derek's pulse point. Slow and easy. Unhurried and soft. The first bite sent a jolt straight down to Derek's crotch. His wolf was enjoying this. The way that Stiles showered him with affection. How easy it all seemed to be.

Stiles worked his way down onto Derek's chest. Teeth giving gentle bites. Loving and playful. The first swipe of his tongue across the older man's nipple had him reeling. It had been years since someone touched him. Even himself. Derek never found much reason for it. But Stiles' touch, and his kiss lit a fire in his groin. Deep, smoldering lust that Derek didn't even know he had.

The young man stayed at his nipples until they were tender and puffy. He kissed his way down, across Derek's stomach. Leaving little marks as he went. Derek wished that he could stop them from healing. That he could leave the marks Stiles was making. So that the whole world would know who he belonged to. But alpha healing properties worked fast. Not nearly as fast as Stiles.

The first swipe over his Derek's length made the alpha thrust his hips upwards. To say it felt good would've been an understatement. Stiles seemed to catch on. He took Derek in his mouth, swallowing him down with ease. He took gentle pulls of the man's cock. Teasing him with the pace of it. Derek felt his claws cut into the sheets of Stiles' bed. The wolf howled, thrashed. Begging for more. Derek whine low in his throat. Stiles didn't seem to notice.

The young man rand his hands up Derek's dusty thighs. Savoring the feel of the course hair under his fingers. The alpha didn't have much restraint left. Stiles was inexperienced as he was in this field. But his sheer level of enthusiasm more than made up for it. And Derek couldn't handle it anymore.

"Fuck me, Stiles." The young man stopped instantly, releasing Derek's length with a pop. He looked debauched as hell. Mouth smeared with spit and pre-come. Lips puffy and swollen. But his face was completely serious.

"Is that an exclamation or a request?" It wasn't a joke. For perhaps the first time in his life, Stiles wasn't being sarcastic. It took Derek for a turn. He knew the logistics of two men having sex. What that entailed. At the time, he didn't think much of it. There were too busy getting each other's clothes off. But Stiles had asked the question.

He knew that one of them was going to be on the receiving end. As it were. Derek pondered the idea. It both thrilled and terrified him. Being that intimate with someone was something he had never done before. Never having experienced that level of closeness. Being an alpha, and just the general type of person he was, it was expected that he would be the giver. That such things, submitting in that way was beneath him. But with Stiles, he liked the idea. The notion of being taken care of in that way.

To have someone hold him close, pressing their bodies together. Making love, not just mindless fucking. That's what he wanted. That's the man and the wolf wanted. So, he gave his answer.

"I want you to fuck me Stiles." The young man didn't say anything. He just made his way back up to Derek's mouth, kissing him gently. Running his hands along his sides. Savoring the softness of their embrace.

"Say it again. I want to hear you say it. Not because it turns me on. But because I want to make sure that this is what you want. And not something you think I want. So, say it again Derek."

" . .Me." He punctuated each word with a point. Making his statement clear and concise. So that there was no miscommunication. Or any form of misunderstanding. So that Stiles knew full and well what he asking.

"All right, big guy. How do you want to do this? It's your show. And I've got all the time in the world."

Derek didn't know quite how to answer that one. He'd never had sex with a man. But he had heard…Ideas. Ways that make it easier. Less painful for the first time. For both persons involved. So, he turned over. Getting on his knees, arms braced in front of his head, against the bed. He could literally hear Stiles' breath pick up. His heart rate increase.

The young man stumbled for a moment. Trying to gain his bearings. There was the sound of a drawer being violently pulled open. There was some scrounging around for what Derek had guessed was lube. Kind of an essential part of sex with another man.

"You have no idea how beautiful you look right now, Derek. Ass all in the air. Jesus, you don't have any idea what you do to me."

"Same can be said for me."

Stiles pressed himself against Derek's back. Teeth nipping at his ear playfully. The slight pain going straight to his cock. The young man kissed his way down Derek's back. Taking his time. Showering Derek with praise and exuberant affection. The alpha felt his wolf preen and howl. It was loving it as much as Derek was.

Stiles trailed his fingers down between Derek's shoulders, pausing at his tattoo. Appreciating is for a moment before moving down the length of his spine. The ghostly touch sent a shiver through him. The good kind. The younger man ventured further, dipping his nimble fingers between Derek's ass.

The first contact with his rim made him jolt forward. It was a foreign feeling. One that he had never experienced before. No one had ever touched him there. Not even himself. So this was brand new territory. But Stiles wasn't in a hurry. He took his time, massaging with gentle pressure. Keeping the pace slow and even. Derek appreciated it.

When the first finger slipped in, Derek felt his breath catch. There was a slight burn, a fleeting moment of pain. Then, it subsided into easy pressure. The sensation of being full. Stiles worked him open with precision. Like it was a mission. And goddamn, if he wasn't a stellar agent. By the time the second finger came, Derek was growing restless.

His entire body was like a live wire. Teaming with lust and energy. Coming slowly undone by the fingers of the man he had given himself to. It was growing to be too much. Stiles offered him soft words. Telling how good he was. How patient he was being. All the while crooking his fingers, opening him further. When the third finger came, Derek didn't even bother holding back the shift anymore.

He felt his fangs sting into his gums. Claws extending from his fingers. His face and brow twisting with the change. He started thrashing. Moving a little wildly. Stiles' response was the place a hand on the back of his neck. Applying gentle pressure, easing him down. Derek felt his entire body relax. The touch calming the wolf. Allowing it back down. He was still shifted. Just calmer.

"You've been so good Derek. So fucking good. But I'm going to ask you one more time. Do you want this?" Stiles said into his ear.

"Yes. Please, Stiles. I want you."

The younger man took it word. Draping himself over Derek. Lining up his length with the alpha's entrance. There was a moment where the both of them held their breath. Then, Stiles slid in. Derek felt his hands curl, claws coming close to slicing into his hands. There was a sharp burn, a moment where it was indeed painful. It gave way to pleasurable pressure. The sensation of being filled.

Stiles' breath was hot in his ear. Ragged and labored. By the sound of it, he was on the edge of coming. Derek wasn't far behind. The first thrust was gentle. Experimental in nature. Derek rocked forward, letting Stiles take the reins. As the younger man moved, his motions became more fluid. Smoother, and easier. Derek rocked his hips backwards, trying to get Stiles to go deeper.

The first time his length brushed against Derek's prostate, he damn near howled. White ate the edges of his eyes. The world becoming a distant and far off thing. There was only this. The slow, sweet drag of Stiles inside of him. Their bodies a perfect fit for each other. Melding together. Closing the distance between them.

Stiles' thrusts grew impatient and erratic as he chased his climax. Derek felt the tightness in his belly grow tighter. His toes curling as his entire body tensed. They were both so fucking close. Stiles grabbed him the front of his throat, hauling them both upwards. Derek's stomach clenched with the effort it took to stay upright. Stiles' hand never left his neck.

It was an all-consuming embrace, a gentle pressure. Not one seeking dominance or submission. Rather, one that let Derek know this moment was there's. And there was no one who could take it away.

The alpha turned his head, meeting Stiles' lips with his own. Tasting the sweat of his mouth, the lust that had crawled across his skin. The younger man thrust one more time, hitting that treasured sweet spot. The both of them climaxing at the same time.

This time, Derek did howl. Loudly. Thankfully, no one else was in the house. He suspected that wouldn't have ended well for either of them. Stiles jackhammered behind him, movements becoming sloppy as he came. Derek rode the high, letting his body be consumed by the bright burst of heat consuming him. It was swallowed him from the bottom of his feet all the way to his head. An all-encompassing orgasm. And arguably, the best one he had ever had.

Stiles bit down on his scruff, the last of climax punching a sharp grunt out if him. Then, they collapsed. Bodies spent and glowing. Derek felt his wolf rumble with pride at Stiles' claim over him. The symbolic acceptance of their sex. The smell wasn't bad either. Both of their sweat and lust and come. It was fucking indescribable. Derek resigned himself to simply bask in the body high.

Stiles turned over, taking the alpha with him. Laying the older man's head across his chest. Which was still heaving with heavy breaths. They had worn themselves out. In the best goddamn way. Derek felt a little sore. But other than that, he was perfectly happy to lay here, with Stiles. Especially when the younger man started rubbing soft circles in his hair. It had been perfect. Stiles had been perfect.

The way he showered Derek with affection. Taking his time, opening him. Bringing him to the edge and back again. It couldn't have been better. Best of all, Derek felt loved. Not used. Stiles didn't judge him for being on the bottom. In fact, he treated it like it was a gift. Something to be adored and cherished. And cherish Derek Stiles did.

The two of them laid there, bodies spent. Not caring of the mess they had made. It could be dealt with in the morning. Derek was more than happy to fall asleep with Stiles hands in his hair. And Stiles was more than happy to let him.


	24. Chapter 24

Stiles woke up in pieces. The first thing he noticed was a warm weight atop his chest. Someone's even breathing. A hand wrapped around his waist. He was in the bed with someone. And that someone was sleeping atop of him. When he saw who it was, he wasn't too mad about it.

Derek's face was lax with sleep. Peaceful, and dreamy. The normally rigid and hard expression he carried had melted away. Becoming something softer. Kinder. It was the Derek that Stiles loved the most. The one that was reduced to his simplest form. So utterly human. Where years of heartache and guilt and loss didn't exist. He was beautiful like this. And Stiles was more than happy to let himself appreciate it.

He ran his hands through Derek's raven locks. Enjoying their softness. The older man actually purred lightly. Rolling himself into the embrace. Much like a cat would. He did his best not to laugh. Derek wouldn't have appreciated it. For the moment, Stiles would allow the indulgence.

It continued for several more minutes before Derek woke. The werewolf stretched out his body, creaking and cracking the dredges of sleep away. He was adorable when he first woke up. Still wiping the sleep from his eyes. Gaining his bearings. That is, until he noticed Stiles.

He greeted him with a kiss, ignoring the sour taste of morning mouth. The both of them were too happy to care. It was simple and sweet. And the easiest thing in the world. Derek rolled atop of Stiles, moving towards his neck. Biting gently and licking his way down to his collarbone. Even with the sudden flush of heat in his groin, Stiles was still making use of his hands.

He ran them over every inch of Derek that he could touch. His chest. His sides. Right down between his cheeks, over his entrance. Applying the slightest pressure. The older man rocked into the touch, moaning into Stiles' neck. More than ready for a repeat of last night. Stiles felt the same.

He knew that sex with Derek was going to be…Different. He hadn't ever really thought about sleeping with a member of the same gender. Sure, there had been glances in the locker room. Brief comparisons. But nothing beyond that. It was just curiosity. Every guy did it.

With Derek, it was something that he wanted. Something that was primal and easy. The way the two of them responded to each other. How simple it all seemed to be. How effortless. So when Derek said the words fuck me, Stiles was thrown for a loop.

It was rather obvious that one of them was going to be on the receiving end. But in the haze of blowing his boyfriend, he hadn't really thought about it. So asked Derek, plainly and clearly, what he wanted. And Derek was all too eager to give it to him. Enthusiastically even.

The older man responded beautifully to Stiles' fingers. Taking each one with ease. And, the fact that he shifted during was kind of a turn on. That Derek, the master of control, was losing it before they even started the actual sex part. Stiles almost came then and there. But he held off, waiting until Derek was ready. Then, they were having sex.

It felt as easy as breathing. Something that came easily and felt so goddamn right. Heather had been great. Stellar even. But Derek was lightyears ahead. The way he moved. The way he sounded. The way he felt as Stiles moved them together. There weren't words to describe. So yeah, the sex was awesome.

He could feel Derek start to shift again when one of his fangs nipped the side of his ear. It was enough to jolt Stiles to his senses. Derek took a little more work.

"As much as I'd like to continue, we should probably shower first."

"Don't want to." The older man said taking Stiles in his hand, stroking his quickly hardening length.

"Holy shit, Derek. As happy as I am to have another go round, the both of us are covered in bodily fluids. Along with my sheets. So, yeah."

"Don't care. Smells good."

"You freaking weirdo. But I tell you what, we'll shower together. And we'll even try something new."

"Like what?" Derek asked.

"Four words. Your ass. My tongue." Derek was all too eager to agree then. He hauled Stiles out of the bed and into the bathroom. The water barely had time to heat up before Derek was pressing him against the hard tiles, claiming his mouth in a ravenous kiss. Stiles let Derek take what he wanted. Curious to see where the man would take things.

Much to his surprise and pleasure, Derek dropped to his knees, and swallowed Stiles down to the root. There was no finesse or grace to it. And Derek didn't pretend otherwise. The objective was simple. To get his boyfriend off as quickly as possible. Stiles was more than happy to oblige him.

Unlike the night before, Derek kept his fangs in check. Happily taking long, fast pulls on Stiles' length. The younger man could do nothing but try and find purchase as his knees started to go wobbly. His body trembling with pleasure. This was only his second blowjob. But he figured that Derek was the best person in the world for it. The way he ran his hands over Stiles' thighs. Scratching ever so lightly.

Stiles' came within minutes. Not even caring to apologize. Derek didn't either. In fact, he was rather smug about it. To counter the man's arrogance, Stiles forced him back up. Turning him round and pinning him against the wall. He made no mistake that Derek was the stronger of the two of them. Werewolf and alpha strength aside. Even if he was human, the man had sixty pounds on him. Easily.

But Derek was plaint and willing. Allowing Stiles to take the reins of action. Keeping Derek's wrists pinned, he kissed the back of his neck. Grinding his still hard length between the man's cheeks. Derek let out little moans of pleasure. Rocking back into it. Happily moving with Stiles in tandem.

After several minutes of frottage, Stiles grabbed the soap. Lather Derek's shoulders and back. Taking his time in massaging the man's well defined muscles. Exploring their hard ridges and fine shape. Moving down towards the man's ass, Stiles gave him a slight pinch on each cheek. Earning him a jolt from Derek. When he moved over his entrance, the man could hardly keep still.

Stiles let himself feel a bit of pride in that. How easily he could make Derek respond. How reactive he was to his touch. It was his turn to be smug. He dropped to his, parting Derek's cheeks with his hands. Kneading the firm muscle in appreciation. The older man shivered when his entrance was exposed. Stiles wasted no time in laving his tongue over it.

As far as sex went, rimming wasn't something Stiles had given that much thought to. Sure, he had seen it in porn plenty of times. But he never thought he'd be doing it to anyone. Let alone Derek. But there was a certain beauty in the way Derek squirmed and writhed. How every swipe of Stiles' tongue sent a body racking shiver through him.

When he finally reached around and grasped ahold of his cock, Derek nearly fucking howled. He was keyed up and sensitive as hell. And Stiles was more than happy to oblige him. To bring him to a quick and shameless completion.

When his orgasm finally came, Derek nearly lost his balance. Knees shaking and legs quivering. Stiles felt his ego inflate just a little with that. Derek, after coming down from his body high, hauled the younger man up, pulling him into a hungry kiss. Stiles was more than happy to let Derek take his mouth. To let their tongues slide gently together.

"You're still hard." He says absently.

"Yeah, dude. I'm eighteen with a libido that won't quit."

"If you're willing, I'd like a repeat of last night." Derek said nipping Stiles' ear.

"You enjoyed yourself I take it?"

"Yeah, I did. In fact, I'd like for you to fuck me like that again. From behind."

Stiles' brain shut off for a moment. Processing what Derek had said to him. That he liked to be fucked. From behind. There weren't enough words in the English language, or any language for that matter, to describe how wonderful that was.

After the quickest towel dry in history, Derek pulled them back to the bedroom. Placing himself on his stomach. Presenting his ass to Stiles. Who was more than willing to pick up where they left off in the shower. He laid himself across Derek's back, draping his from over the older man. Nipping gently on his earlobe, Stiles kissed his way down. Making his way to Derek's cheeks.

He didn't bother wasting time. Derek was as responsive to his tongue as he was in the shower. Writhing, squirming. Little breathy moans instead of words. When Stiles added his fingers, Derek damn near launched himself into the headboard. Stiles took pleasure in that.

He opened up quickly, and easily. Like he was made for it. Derek was shaking at this point. Body unable to keep still. Unable to stop asking Stiles to hurry. So, the younger man obliged him. Sliding in, slowly, smoothly. Taking his time, teasing Derek. Just for the hell of it.

When he finally bottomed out, he laid himself across Derek. Planting a gentle kiss on the back of his neck. The first thrust was shallow and easy. Derek tried to move, but Stiles grabbed the older man's hands. Lacing their fingers together. Keeping them both grounded. Derek growled through his fangs, which had sprouted. But allowed himself to be centered. To let Stiles take the lead.

The two of them moved in tandem. Stiles thrusting into Derek. And with Derek pushing back. It wasn't going to last long. Stiles could feel heat coiling in his belly. A warmth forming at the base of his spine. Their bodies draped together. Sweat pooling at the base of their spines.

Stiles could feel himself losing what little self-control he had left. His thrusts became erratic and unfocused. Devolving into rapid jackhammering. Causing the bed to shake and Derek to grunt. When his orgasm finally reached its crescendo, Stiles stilled, unable to move as he body found its release. Derek came with a loud moan. His dick buried in the sheets.

The both of them laid there, saying nothing. Enamored in the body high of their sex. After a few minutes, Stiles turned over. Separating himself from Derek. The two of them breathing heavily. Unlike last night, their go round was quick and hurried. Uncontrolled and somewhat animalistic. Stiles didn't have a problem with that. Neither did Derek.

The older man climbed on top of Stiles, lazily kissing him. Mouth slack and sweaty. The both of them unconcerned that they had just taken a shower. Oh well, the sex was well worth it. They could use a towel to clean up this time.

"So, that was good." Stiles said.

"No, that was fantastic."

"Maybe next time, we could switch things around a little."

"As in?" Derek asked.

"As in me riding you into the mattress until your eyes roll into the back of your head." Derek didn't give an answer. He just took Stiles' mouth, growling low in his throat.

"You can't say shit like that Stiles. We'll never be able to leave the bed."

The younger man chuckled softly while acknowledging just how right Derek was. Stiles was an eighteen year old whose sexual experiences included his hand and only one other person. Derek had repressed his sexuality for the last six years. With no healthy relief in-between. The both of them were amped up and geared for action. If they let themselves ignore the rest of the world, they'd most likely spend the next week fucking like rabbits. It did sound rather appealing.

Unfortunately, there wasn't time to indulge in such a campaign of marathon sex. As much as Stiles would've liked. The world didn't stop turning. Life didn't stop being lived. They had a pack among other things to be concerned about. So, Stiles hauled himself out of the bed. Fetching a rag from the bathroom.

Derek was all too happy to let himself be wiped down. With Stiles massaging his sex sore muscles as he did so. Derek returned the favor. Running his hands over Stiles' thighs. Appreciating the dip in his collarbone. All of the sensitive places that Stiles never really knew that he had. Thankfully, Derek made quick work of it. Stiles could already feel himself trying to get hard again. At this rate, they'd never be able to get out of the door.

When they were finally able their teeth brushed and their clothes on, Stiles marveled that this was all real. He and Derek were a thing. An actual, living, breathing couple. Despite every last odd pit against them, they were together. And he was going to do everything in his power to keep it that way. To keep Derek safe. How he would do so, he didn't know.

Downstairs, Stiles moved to make them breakfast. It was a little late for it. Being close to eleven. More of a brunch thing. He started on the bacon and pancakes. Mixing up the ingredients for omelets in-between. The kitchen was soon flooded with the smell of sizzling meat and grease. It was always a smell that Stiles loved.

When his mother was still alive, they had breakfast every Sunday. As a family. After her passing, Stiles' father was loathe to continue the practice. Stiles, grieving and confused about the world, didn't notice at the time. But now, after so many years of loss and pain, he had a new family. A pack. A group of people that he loved and cared for. People that he would fight for. One of them came walking in through the door.

Stiles knew that his father was going to have the sex talk with him eventually. As did every parent with half a brain. Derek was six years older than him. Granted, Stiles was eighteen and more than able to consent to any sex they have had. But he was the son of a cop. And cops were never ones to shy away from protecting their children.

Derek stood to attention as the Sheriff walked in. Spine rigid and face placid. To the rest of the world, it would seem a normal day. But Stiles knew better. Normally, when Derek was around him, he was somewhat carefree and easygoing. Now that his father was here, Derek was actually something close to scared. It was among a handful of times Stiles had ever seen him like that.

"Stiles, you're up late. I take it Derek spent the night?" the man asked.

"Yes, he did. He was the one on patrol duty for the house."

"And I take it that you also shared a bed and mostly likely slept with each other. In more ways than one."

Derek actually flinched. It was subtle. But Stiles had been around him enough to know his boyfriend's body language. He was nervous. With excellent reason. The good sheriff has been a cop for as long as Derek had been alive. To say that he was a stellar shot would've been an understatement. Add in the fact that he had been in contact with Chris Argent only made things worse.

The two men had little in common. Save for two things. The first being how protective they were over their children. Chris had actually threatened Scott at near gun point should he attempt to pursue Allison in any context outside of their alliance.

They were also fiercely dedicated to protecting the people of Beacon Hills. Now that Deucalion had made an attack on Jackson and Lydia, things were still on high alert. And that meant that the sheriff had a gun with Wolfsbane bullets. And Stiles knew that he was more than willing to use them on Derek.

"So, a twenty-two year old man is having sex with my eighteen year old son. I don't think that I need to point out everything wrong with that do I?"

"Dad, you said it yourself. I'm eighteen, and more than capable of consenting to a relationship. Including a sexual one. That isn't the issue you have."

"And what might be my issue, Stiles?" the man asked.

"You don't like Derek because he's a werewolf. Not to say that you hate werewolves on principal. But you don't like the idea of me being in danger. That I'm a part of the pack. One that's currently under attack from outside forces."

The sheriff didn't say anything. Instead, he made his way over towards the coffee pot, pouring himself a rather large cup. Stiles, on any other day, would've told his father to watch his caffeine intake. To take better care of his heart. But he knew when to pick and choose his battles. They could discuss it later.

"Yes, the fact that my son is in a relationship with an alpha werewolf does concern me. Two people have already been attacked. Lydia barely survived her injuries. She got lucky. Next time, it might be you. And you might get so lucky. This Deucalion fellow is coming after Derek. And that means you're a weak spot for him."

"Deucalion won't get near Stiles, sir. That I can promise you."

"Why?" the man asked.

"Why what, sir?"

"Why are you so adamant on protecting my son? Why do any of this?"

It was a simple enough question. One that the sheriff had every right to ask. Stiles was his son, and he was always looking out for his best interests. In this case, making sure he didn't fall victim to a psychotic alpha werewolf. And Derek had the perfect answer.

"Because I love him. Because after six years of fearing and damn near hating humans, he proved me wrong. He proved to me that not all humans are hunters. That they are capable of love and loyalty towards my kind. That there is good in the world. Because he's pack. And even when the though his friends had abandoned him, he stayed by their side when he learned the truth.

He fought for them. Protected them. Without a second thought or concern of what dangers may be involved. It's that selfishness, that cleverness, that sheer force of will that I love. He makes me better. Makes us better. I tried keeping him out of things before. It didn't go so well. But I promised him that he was pack, and that I would never exclude him again. And now, I promise you this. Myself and my sister will do everything in our power to keep him safe."

The sheriff took a long sip from his cup. Assessing the weight and nature of Derek's words. His eyes pinched at the corners, staring deeply at the man. Stiles watched with his breath caught in his chest, trying to make sure the bacon didn't burn. They still had to eat after all.

"I don't understand this relationship. For years, my son pinned after Lydia with shameless ambition. Never thought he'd be into other men. Especially ones six years older than him. But he's happy. You make him happy. So I'll make this promise in return. Hurt him, break his heart in even the slightest, and you'll be buried in a closed casket. Understood?"

"Yes sir." Derek said swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Good. Now, Stiles. I want a literal mountain of bacon. And eggs with the yolks still in them. Don't bother arguing. I just threatened my son's alpha werewolf boyfriend. I think I'm entitled to a little indulgence."

Stiles didn't even bother with it. He finished cooking, heaping the serving plates with bacon, omelets, and pancakes. Setting the table, and filling everyone's plates for them. The late breakfast was a good one. Derek actually managed to relax a little. Enjoying himself despite being threatened minutes earlier. Stiles took it in stride. His father was always going to disapprove of their relationship. But for now, things were good. Too bad someone had to come along and ruin it.

There was a knock at the door. Most likely someone from the pack. The sheriff shouted that the door was open. Stiles could hear the footsteps approaching the dining room. There were three of them from the sound of it. Only, they weren't anyone from the pack.

Derek was on his feet in a flash, eyes blaring red. Fangs gnashing at the intruders. The sheriff followed suit, drawing his gun. Ethan and Aiden were the last two people that Stiles ever expected to see in his house. His school guidance counselor being the other.

She was a slight woman. Being similar to Lydia's height and stature. Only with warm brown skin and midnight hair. There was always an air of realness about her. Something that Stiles couldn't quite explain. But now that he was training in various magics, he could feel it.

That old, ancient thrum that he always felt from Deaton. was an emissary. And as it turns out, she was the emissary to the alpha pack. To Deucalion. Stiles definitely didn't see that one coming.

"If everyone would refrain from mauling or shooting, these two, as well as I have something we'd like to say."

"How about I tear your heads off instead?" Derek suggested. Stiles took his boyfriend by the arm, doing his best to calm him.

"Speak. And be careful of what you choose to say. If you think Derek is bad when angry, you've yet to see me. Well, Aiden has. Or have you already forgotten what that poison did to you?"

The alpha flinched backwards. No doubt remembering indeed what Stiles had done to him. The pain of the toxin that he had thrown into his eyes. The horrible nightmare visions that followed after. And perhaps he also remembered how nonchalant Deucalion had been about the whole thing.

"We want to talk. With Derek and Laura. Peacefully." Aiden said.

"Funny, you weren't too interested in peace when Kali nearly ripped Lydia apart. And left Jackson to be turned." Stiles spat.

"We didn't have anything to do with that. Deucalion has been getting more aggressive. More reckless. We stayed with him out of fear, not loyalty. But now, things have changed."

"And what exactly had changed that you'd offer a peace talk?" Stiles asked harshly.

"He threatened Danny." Ethan replied.

That was…Something. Stiles knew that Danny and Ethan were still seeing each other. That they were something close to a couple. He'd been watching closely, making sure that his friend stayed safe. Always at a distance. If he didn't have to involve him in the world of werewolves, he was going to avoid it. But now, Deucalion had made the decision. He was making sure that Ethan stayed compliant by threatening the one person he cared about other than his brother.

"Why should we believe you?" Stiles asked.

"Because Deucalion is mad with power. Mad with the idea that he can add someone of the Hale bloodline to his pack. And we don't want anything else to do with it. So, if that means joining you, we will."

Stiles assessed the gravity of the twins' words. Deucalion was a madman with little concern for collateral damage. He would mow down anyone and everyone that got in his way. To say nothing of the people who betrayed him. So for these three to stand here, saying that they were defecting…Stiles understood the risk of that action. But he also understood the risk of trusting them.

He moved away from Derek, walking towards the twins. Face hard as stone, spine rigid and firm. The both of them took several steps back. Clearly fearlful of what he might do.

"I don't trust you. Not by a longshot. But Danny is my friend. And I want to keep him safe. So I'll say this. We'll talk, discuss what happens next. See what we can work out. And if you even try, even so much as think one treacherous thought...That toxin will seem like a sugar coated dream compared to what I will do to you. Understand?"

The twins didn't have any words to say yes with. They were too afraid. Afraid of the fury of a simple human teenager. Only, he wasn't so simple. There was a depth to Stiles that escaped their understanding. So in place of words, they simply nodded yes.

"Good, now sit down. I'm still hungry. And don't try and grab any of the bacon. My dad will shoot you over it." The twins and sat down, seemingly stunned by the events that had just transpired. For Stiles, it was just another Saturday.


	25. Chapter 25

The house was on edge when they arrived. Derek had messaged everyone, informing them of who was coming over. Along with why they were doing so. Laura had ordered all hands on deck to keep the children safe. That, Derek understood if nothing else. The kids came first.

He called the betas, ordering to help prepare for their arrival. Namely, instructions on how to handle the twins. No less than two on point should they try anything suspicious. And they struck to kill. No questions asked. Whatsoever.

Stiles, similarly, prepared his own defenses. He was rather apt with the use of Wolfsbane and other anti-werewolf materials. Derek didn't fault him for that. Plus, he had been taking shooting lessons with Chris for weeks now. The young man was a superb shot and almost as skilled in hand to hand combat.

When he joined them in training, Stiles was able to keep up with Isaac and Erica. The two fastest in both packs. He was able to outlast both Boyd and Derek, who had the highest stamina. Granted, the damage he could actually inflict with his fists was somewhat minimal. But that's what poisoned knives were for.

Like mountain ash, he took to a habit of carrying any number of hidden knives on his person. Wherever possible. It made his a rather lethal opponent. One could not block what they could not see. And Stiles, for all he was worth was perhaps the most innocuous person imaginable. People didn't think much of him at first glance. He was easy to forget and overlook. But when push came to shove, he fought harder than any wolf.

That's what made him dangerous. He knew he was human. That he had limits. But he didn't care. When it came to his friends, when it came to his pack, there wasn't a more devoted sentinel in the world. It was one of the many reasons Derek loved him. But at the same time, it was a cause for concern.

Stiles was highly intelligent. Remarkably analytical and astute. With a knack for crazy ass plans that no one else in their right minds would've ever even dreamed of. But he was also rash, impulsive, bordering on manic. He jumped head first with no helmet at times. Placing himself in danger, not even considering that he might not walk away in one piece. Or at all for that matter.

Derek respected his boyfriend's desire to stay human. To keep that part of himself intact and untainted with what he viewed as something unwanted. Stiles was fast, smart, and stronger than most people could ever hope to be. But he was still human. And humans broke easier than werewolves. They healed slower. It was an ongoing issue for Derek. Placing that level of trust in someone. That level of confidence. But so far, Stiles hadn't given Derek or any other member of the pack any reason to doubt him.

When they arrived, Laura was waiting outside. Along with several other of the adult wolves. Isaac, Erica, and Boyd were there was well. Scott was nowhere to be found. If Derek had to guess, he was at the Argent's. Informing them of the situation. No doubt trying to persuade them into joining the meeting. Even with how much Derek didn't entirely trust them, he couldn't fault the young man for having hope. Derek and Chris were by no means friends. But they could at least unite against a common enemy.

Stiles got out first, escorting Ethan and Aiden up to the house. Derek couldn't exactly pick up what his boyfriend said. But it sounded a lot like a threat. If the way the two of them shivered in fear. The both of them had learned not to fuck with Stiles. In any way. The consequences of which were less than pleasant. As all of them had come to know.

Laura led the lot of them inside, making sure Ethan and Aiden were in front of her. A typical wolf tactic. It gave her the advantage if they tried to spring a surprise attack. There was also Derek and Stiles to contend with. Even though the odds were against the twin alphas, Derek knew full and well not to trust them. Even after they were done talking.

As they entered the house, Derek saw that the remainder of Laura's betas were present. Including Cora. Totaling out at nearly twenty. Lydia and Jackson were also present. Further increasing their numbers. But Derek refused to allow himself to relax. Even for a second.

As they seated themselves, there more than a few people present who crinkled their noses. Detecting the traces of what Derek and Stiles had done last night. As well as this morning. The young alpha felt himself blush. Cheeks running red and hot. He knew full and well that his betas would know the moment he got within proximity of them.

Erica was the literal worst. The young she-wolf's eyebrows crawled into her hairline. A knowing smirk spreading across her face. Derek made a point to avoid eye contact. It was a conversation that was bound to happen. One that he knew wasn't going to be easy or pleasant. But it would have to wait until they were done with the twins. No matter how much his betas liked to gossip.

The others made faces as Derek and Stiles settled into the living room. Sitting next to each other, fingers lacing together. Ignoring the pointed stares of everyone around them. Yeah, they had sex. And it was awesome. But that wasn't really a concern at this point. Why the twins were here was.

Laura opted not to sit. Her posture firm and rigged as she glared at the two alphas in her home. Derek had seen his sister in many different lights. Rarely had he seen her furious. She was the most level headed person he ever knew. Next to their mother that is. But now, she was fuming with a rage he had never witnessed. Forget anything he could do to Ethan and Aiden. His sister was not likely to leave anything behind.

"Speak. And I'll decide whether or not you will leave here in one piece. Especially after what happened to those two." She said pointing to Lydia and Jackson.

The former was stone faced and utterly terrifying. Derek knew that she wasn't human. Not after the bite acted the way it did. Humans either died or turned when bitten by an alpha werewolf. Lydia, while mauled beyond reproach, had undergone neither. She was something else entirely. Something older, and darker than a werewolf. Something that radiated power and fear and majesty all in the same moment. He wasn't too keen on finding out exactly what it was.

Ethan was the first to speak. In a cautioned voice. His choice of words careful and concise. He was making sure that he didn't piss anyone off. Well, more so than they already were. As it turned out, the effort failed.

Deucalion had planned the attack on Lydia and Jackson without even mentioning it to the twins. They were in no way involved in that plan. Derek had a hard time finding a lie. Ethan's heartbeat was even and steady. As well as his brother's. That, and when the two teenagers had been found, it was Kali and Deucalion's scents who had been surrounding the area. Not the twins. That worked in their favor.

The motive behind the attack was simple. To throw a wrench into Derek and Laura's packs. One newly turned werewolf previously unaware of the supernatural was enough of a task. Having two was a goddamn nightmare. What the mad alpha hadn't expected that only one of them would turn. And that the both of them would take to the reveal with expert grace. Therefore, he had implemented a new plan of attack. Namely, those whom he could reach. Those outside of Derek and Laura's circle of protection.

The first option, and the most obvious, was the sheriff. He was a man seated in a position of power. One, who if turned, would surely have to take a leave of absence. The time being spent either in a hospital slowly dying. Or learning to control the perils of the shift. Either way, it would've royally fucked them over.

Covering up something such as a high rank officer going out commission wasn't easy. There was no way for them to suppress the media. Or the idle gossip of the town. People talked. And word traveled fast. The notion that the general populace discovered the existence of werewolves was rather terrifying to say the least. Especially since Derek and Laura had nowhere to run.

The next tactic had been to use Danny. Someone who was involved with Stiles and the others. But removed far enough to the point of him being vulnerable. His turning would also draw excessive amounts of attention. That's what got Ethan on the rail to abandoning Deucalion. The young alpha had feelings for the other boy.

What started off as convenient sex and the gathering of information had turned to something unexpected. A development of the unforeseen nature. It was the tiniest shove. But enough that had Ethan doubting his master. And where Ethan doubted, so did Aiden. That meant, here, Deucalion was two more alphas down. Which just left him and Kali. Not that it made things any easier.

Kali was a formidable woman. In every possible aspect. She was an expert fighter. Quick, agile, with no room for mercy. The she-wolf reveled in the sensation of violence. Blood being her drug of choice. It excited and thrilled her. To the point of mania. That said nothing compared to Deucalion.

As well-spoken and calm as the man seemed, Derek knew otherwise. The man was quite insane. There were many evils in the world. Sins of a vial nature that few men could ever stomach. Deucalion had more than committed his fair share of them.

Firstly, killing his own pack for power. After losing his eyes to Gerard, the man took a downward spiral to the deepest pits of hell. His mind snapped to pieces that could never be put back together. At that point, slaughtering his betas seemed a rather simple task. And slaughter them he did.

What he did after was just as horrifying. Convincing two other alphas to follow in his footsteps. To go against every natural instinct that there was in a wolf. To take the lives of one's pack. Merely for selfish gain. Derek couldn't even imagine the level of depravity it took to stoop so low. Even more so that the man wanted to add to his deranged pack.

The Hales were a noble bloodline. At least, in the world of werewolves. Their history being long and proud. It made sense that Deucalion viewed Laura and Derek as prizes. In the man's eyes, they were trophies. And little else. That's what made it all the worse.

He wasn't amassing power because there was a threat. Not because he had some terrible enemy to face down. But because he wanted what he imagined as an ideal pack. A group of outrageously powerful individuals that could stand against anything and everything. A singular and all-consuming desire to have the best. Derek tried his best not to vomit at the repulsiveness of it all.

Laura was the first to concede in the idea that the twins were telling the truth. She didn't trust them. Neither did Derek. But they had as much to lose as anyone by betraying Deucalion. In making an enemy of him. That, at the very least, they could work with. If nothing else.

With the details of the abandonment known, the group dispersed to begin planning for the inevitable attack. Deucalion wouldn't sit idle for very long. Patient he may be. But the man did like to play his games. Beacon Hills was his chessboard. And they were all just pawns to him. That, above all else, is what made him so completely dangerous. Everyone was expendable.

With most of the tension bleed out of the house, Derek's betas wasted no time in gathering around their alpha. Knowing smirks across their faces. Erica was the literal worst. Her eyebrows hadn't left her hairline since Derek and Stiles arrived. Boyd and Jackson just kept blank faces if nothing else. Scott and Isaac looked as if they were ready to burst into a fit of giggles.

Derek knew that they would confront him about having sex with Stiles. They were atrocious little shits with no sense of decency or decorum. As much as he tried to teach them otherwise. The young alpha felt his gut clench. A tightness forming in his spine. Well, here he went.

"One word, and you'll be running drills into the forest for the next twelve hours." He threatened.

"Oh come on, alpha my alpha. We just wanted to know how good of a lay Stiles was." Erica said teasingly.

"Dude, that's my best friend. So not interested." Scott said.

"We all know that Stilinski was bent over some surface and fucked from behind. Though, from the lack of limping, looks like Derek took it easy on him." Jackson quipped.

"He's only human after all."

Derek didn't consider himself to be an angry person. Granted, he had a short fuse and was easily annoyed by his betas antics. But by no means was he wrathful or hateful. That, being said, there was something about their words. Yes, they had said it as a joke. A good natured jab. Something that friends did. But Derek didn't find it to be okay.

The way they were talking about Stiles…It was as if being on the receiving end was somehow akin to being weak. To being less than. That Stiles, as a human, would never match up to a werewolf. That, in Derek's mind was the furthest thing from the truth. He was just as strong, and brave, and as loyal. The idea that he was somehow less for what they had perceived…He didn't like it.

"I wouldn't know much about fucking Stiles. He was too busy fucking me."

That seemed to shut them up. If nothing else. The lot of them were gob smacked into utter silence. All from surprise. Derek took a little pride in that. Being able to shut his betas up without using force or violence. The sheer shock of it more than sufficient.

"Wait…Stiles…You…What?" Scott asked.

"You guys are a bunch of assholes." Stiles said coming up from behind them.

The five of them didn't have anything to say. At all. Where Stiles was concerned, certain things went a particular way. If the betas disappointed Derek, they would wipe their faces, and try again the next day. Motivated and ready to work harder than before. With Stiles, things were a bit more complicated.

He was a sacred pillar of their pack. The human element. Seemingly innocuous but in reality, an all-consuming presence. He was the one who fought hardest. Planned the smartest. And so on. Disappointing him left a deep, unyielding ache in your chest. A sort of pang that didn't go away on its own. You didn't just want to work harder. You wanted to be a better person.

Derek could see it in their faces. The looks of realization that they had insulted their alpha and their friend. The one that had stuck by them through everything. Through every doubt. Every trial. Every fear. Stiles was there through it all. And they had failed him. Even if it was just in a small way, they had failed him.

They all go about their apologies. Erica being the best out of the group about it. The betas didn't fear Stiles. They respected him. So the act was genuine. Except for Jackson that is. The young man was a raging douche even now. Unwilling to admit that he had done anything wrong to begin with. Pride always led to the fall. And Derek knew that he would meet his sooner rather than later. Except it came a bit ahead of schedule.

"Jackson, apologize to Stiles and Derek. Or they'll learn just how much a "bitch" you are in bed." Lydia threatened.

The young wolf went rigid. All the color draining from his face. White as a sheet wouldn't have even come close. It was yet another example of just how terrifying Lydia Martin could truly be. She was far more than just a pretty face. And Derek knew it. What exactly she was, remained a mystery. But it didn't seem that important at the moment. There were more pressing matters to attend to.

There was a multitude of planning to be done. Preparations to be made. Namely, and most importantly, fortifying the pack houses. Stiles, surprisingly, had begun to learn warding magic. It was an old practice. A series of enchantments. Meant for protection and the like. He and Deaton had been busy these past few weeks. Derek was grateful for it.

The other houses would need work as well. Though it would take some time to shield all of them. Stiles was the only one capable of preforming magic. So that meant the act of warding fell entirely on him. Protecting all the houses in need of it in a single day just wasn't feasible. So they planned a routine. Which houses would be shielded which days. And how long Stiles would need to rest between castings.

Derek found himself slightly overwhelmed at it all. They were preparing for war. Not exactly the most stress free of situations. Granted, they had the sheriff on their side. And whatever resources he could spare would be vastly beneficial. Chris and Allison were on board with the idea of an alliance. However temporary. That gave them the edge of having an experienced hunter duo on their side. Derek was liking their odds more and more every second.

It was in the late hours of the night, after hours upon hours of coordinating that he felt the first dredges of sleep wash over him. He was tired. He was so tired that he felt it in his bones. Everyone else was the same. This kind of planning took more mental focus than any of them were used to. Most of the betas hadn't even bothered to go home. Instead choosing to pass out on whatever surface they could find. Stiles wasn't one of them.

Derek looked around for his boyfriend. Trying to find the young man. Surely he was asleep some manner of book, trying to learn more than he should be taking on. Knowing was always his specialty. There wasn't a field of study the young man couldn't break down. So long as he put his mind to it. But he was nowhere to be found.

Derek searched the entire house. Up and down. In every room that he knew Stiles could've been in. he was nowhere. He shook Scott awake, asking where the young man was. Apparently, he had gone home to gather some materials needed for the wards. And no one had though to tell Derek.

The young alpha took out his phone, dialing Stiles' number. It went to voicemail after the first ring. Which meant his phone was dead. Which meant they had no way of contacting him. Derek didn't wait to call the sheriff. He simply took off towards Stiles' house. Heart pounding in his chest. Something was wrong.

Stiles never forgot to charge his phone. Ever. Not since learning of werewolves. Not since starting a relationship with Derek. Especially not since learning Deucalion was making his move towards the pack. No, something else was going on. And when Derek got to Stiles' house, he knew what it was.

The driver's side door to the Jeep had been damn near ripped off its hinges. Dangling loosely but a single screw. There was the sharp scent of blood and pain lingering in the air. Stiles' blood. And underneath that was the pungent scent of foreign alpha. Deucalion to be precise. He had been here. And he had taken Stiles.

Derek didn't bother with a call. Or a text. He reared his head back and roared. He roared as loud as he could. Shaking the air with his anger. With his fury. With his sorrow. All of Beacon Hills could hear it. And when his pack answered his cry, he took off. The war had come. And Deucalion wouldn't be surviving it.


	26. Chapter 26

Hindsight, as it turned out, was 20/20. Which was a real bitch. There were a myriad of things that Stiles thought Deucalion would do. Plays and moves that he would make. All meant to cause the maximum amount of damage in the least amount of time. What he didn't expect, was to be the target of one of those plays.

He had allowed his guard to slip. If only for a moment. A brief lapse in judgement. One that ended up costing him a disproportionate price. If ever there was one. Sneaking out of the house had been easy. When one ran with wolves, one learned how to avoid them. When needed of course. Even from under the noses of two alphas. Stiles prided himself on that ability.

There were things that he needed at his house. Items meant for protection. Things like mountain ash and witch hazel. To fortify the houses against whatever madness Deucalion had planned for them. Which, knowing the crazy bastard, was sure to his full force. They were dealing with a guy who called himself the demon wolf after all. The sense of grandeur behind his motives was rather obvious. And somewhat annoying. Stiles always did hate a guy with an inflated sense of self.

Deucalion was a prime example. The man had a god complex from here to the moon and back again. Never thinking anything that he did was wrong. That everything he did was justified. That his power gave him the right to act as he saw fit. In short, he didn't care who got caught in the crossfire. At all. He was willing to sacrifice anyone and everyone to get to his goal. And as it turned out, that applied to Stiles as well.

When he arrived home, nothing was out of the ordinary. His father was at work, tending to the many messes Deucalion had left behind. The man's actions were drawing dangerous amounts of attention. With the wrong eyes prying into things, the packs would be in danger. People weren't exactly good at processing the idea that they weren't the top of the food chain. Mass exposure of werewolves, and other nasties in the night wouldn't bode well for any of them.

Thankfully, they had some on their side. The Argents had been instrumental in keeping things in order. With Deucalion running amok, other alphas were starting to notice. Lurking at the edges of Beacon Hills. Waiting for any and every opportunity they could seize. Some wanted to see what would happen. Others wanted to make a play for the territory.

The Argents gave regular reports. Keeping them up to date. Which alphas could be engaged in dialogue. And which ones would simply shed blood for the pleasure of it. Stiles was ready for them all. What he wasn't ready for was what was waiting for him when he got out of the Jeep.

Kali was a lioness of a woman. Fast, agile, and unmatched in her ruthlessness. The bitch also had some damn quiet footsteps. Stiles didn't even have time to hear here come up from behind. The only way he managed to dodge the first blow was by the reflection in the side mirror of the Jeep. Even then, it was barely enough time.

He ducked in time to avoid the woman's razor sharp claws. The sheer force of the blow knocking the door of the Jeep damn near off its hinges. Then, he had time to counterattack. Keeping a knife on him always seemed like a good idea. He wasn't the best at hand to hand combat. And against a pissed off alpha werewolf, he had less than no chance of winning. The knife gave him an edge at the very least.

The first slash caught her right across the left side of her face. It's more than a graze. But it wasn't even deep enough to mean anything. Stiles had been aiming for one of her eyes. Even with how strong she was, fighting became difficult when you couldn't see your opponent. Unfortunately, he missed. And the cut seemed only to agitate the woman further. Which, of course, helped nothing.

Kali was a force to be reckoned with when she was in a good mood. Much like a hurricane. Each strike quick and calculated. When enraged, her strength doubled. As well as her speed. But her movements became sloppy and uncoordinated. Stiles was able to dodge them all as they came. But it took everything he had just to do that. There was no room for him to strike back. He felt himself begin to tire rather quickly.

As a fighter, his specialty was punches. A boxer really. Practicing with the pack had taught him how to maximize his strikes. Making each blow count for all it was worth. With what little strength he had as a human against werewolves. But what was lacking was his stamina. Sitting bench on lacrosse had done him no favors. Even with training, he had improved. But not enough to match a werewolf. Alpha status aside.

The first contact of Kali's claws sends a burning sting across his arm. Deep enough to draw blood. But not enough to cause any real concern. For the moment anyway. But it throws him off enough that he stumbles. And she takes full advantage of it.

Her foot sweeps under him, knocking out his balance. Forcing him to tumble to the ground. She wasted no time in kicking him across the face. There was a sharp crack and he knew that his nose was most likely broken. The blow sends a sharp ringing through his ears. A high pitched ringing that suppressed all other noise. White started to eat at the edges of his vision. The bitch could hit, that was for sure.

There was no time to recover. She pressed his head down with one of her absurdly clawed feet. Forcing him into submission. He struggles uselessly against her. Trying anything to escape. But she's stronger, and more than ready to break something should he continue to resist. Only, he doesn't get the chance.

Deucalion seemingly materializes out of nowhere. Footsteps just as silent as Kali's. The light tapping of his cane come across the pavement. Even with Stiles' blurred vision, he knows the man his smiling. The smug bastard. As he felt Kali lift his head, Stiles thought that he should've told someone that he was leaving. He has just enough time to feel the regret as his skull is smashed into the ground. His head was plunged into a screaming pain. And the world started to spin.

As things became more and more blurred, Stiles thought of many things. How Erica and Boyd finally became official. How Scott and Isaac were something more than pack mates and friends. How his father finally found some manner of stability. How Laura and her pack seemed to be integrating into Beacon Hills nicely. But most of all, he thought of Derek.

He thought of his sour face. The one he put one to the world. Never really having any other kind of expression. He thought of the man's smile. The one that was reserved for the most special of moments. When the kids came running by, laughing in their high pitched voices. When Laura jumped on his back, demanding a piggyback ride. But the best one was when Derek smiled for Stiles.

When they had their own private moments. Away from the others. Away from the rest of the world. Alone and together. The two of them. When they kissed, with Derek smiling into it. The man broken by tragedy, as bright as the sun. He wondered if he was ever going to get to see Derek's smile again. He wondered if he was ever going to get to see anything again. He didn't have too much time to think about it. The white at the edges of his vision faded into black. And the world became silent.

When he comes back to the world of the conscious, the first thing he notices is the smell. The air is thick with rust, dried gasoline, and a layer of dust. It's a cloying thing that gives me a headache. Or rather, makes the one he had far worse. Getting one's head smashed into the pavement tended to have such a result.

The result being that there was a pounding in his head that rivaled that of a thunderstorm. A radiating pain that swallowed his brain. Making it difficult to concentrate on much of anything. But he had experienced worse. Chris was a practical slave driver when it came to training. Pushing Stiles to his limits and beyond. More so than he ever could've imagined. And it had done him good.

As the last dredges of having the shit kicked out of him faded, he realized that he was tied to a chair. Ropes binding his hands behind his back. The chair itself wasn't bolted and fastened to the ground. Which gave him an advantage. That didn't mean escaping would be any easier. He was still recovering from the thrashing that Kali had given him.

He could feel the soreness in his arms and legs. Moving hurt. Namely, his shoulder. It was white hot with pain and Stiles knew that it was most likely dislocated. Probably happened at some point in the fight. It would limit his ability to strike back. If he ever managed to get loose. But as the universe had a sense of humor, he wasn't given the opportunity.

Deucalion appeared from the shadows, eyes gleaming milky red. Stiles had heard that he was only blind when human. That the man could see almost as well when he was shifted. But prolonged use of that led to some serious pain. So, Deucalion could only shift for a limited amount of time. Had Stiles been united and without a dislocated shoulder, he might've had a fighting chance. But that wasn't the case.

"Good to see Kali didn't do too much damage. I was wondering if you were ever going to wake up."

"You have a really messed up way of greeting people. You know that?" Stiles said bitterly.

"Well, I only responded in kind. You stole two of my alphas from me. Taking you from Derek and the others seemed like a fair exchange."

"I didn't take shit. They decided to leave when they realized how insane you are."

Deucalion didn't give a response. Instead, he walked forward. Slowly and easily. Calmly and without distress. Not there was any reason for him to be. Stiles was tied a chair after all. He was in no position to retaliate. Not that Deucalion cared very much.

The man didn't waste any time in plunging his clawed fingers into Stile's arm. The sharp points ripping through flesh and tendons. There was no warning or indication. Naturally, Stiles started to scream. Loudly. Though he knew there was no one to hear him. Where they were was almost perfect for a situation like this.

If he had to guess, Stiles would've assumed that they were in the same warehouse district in which he attacked Aiden. There were plenty of buildings to hold him in. To keep him secreted away from the world. As well as his pack. The traces of lingering chemicals and rust were pungent in his nose. He could only imagined how it smelled to a werewolf. It would take some time to find him. In the meantime, Deucalion seemed content with torturing him.

The man clawed and slashed, raking down over Stiles' flesh. Making deep cuts and drawing blood. Enough to cause massive amounts of agony. But nowhere near enough to kill him. It was obvious that the man had experience in this kind of thing. Stiles could do nothing but scream. Scream and endure.

It continued for what felt like eternity. With Deucalion trying to cover every inch of him in scars and pain. The man never said anything. He just continued, seemingly pleased with Stiles' anguish. If nothing else, the man was efficient.

When he seemed down, Stiles breathed a temporary sigh of relief. His entire body was throbbing. He didn't know pain like this existed. But it was just the beginning. Deucalion wasn't known for doing anything half assed. Stiles knew that there was more to come. He knew that he was going to have to endure until the other found him. Until they could save him. He just hoped it was sooner rather than later.

"You handled that rather nicely. If I do say so."

"Go sit on a cactus you psychotic fuckstick." The comment earned him a fierce slap across the face. The sound of the hit echoing in the warehouse.

"Derek really should teach you more respect. Had you been one of mine, I would've already ripped your tongue out."

"Derek likes my tongue far too much to rip it out." Stiles said with a grin.

"Ha! Cheeky one, aren't you? But that won't save you. Derek has refused me for far too long. And I just can't have that. You are the weak link Stiles. And Derek realized that the moment you joined his pack. I suppose I should thank you. Without you, I wouldn't be able to have him for myself."

"And what makes you think Derek will do anything but rip your head off?" Stiles asked.

"Because that boy adores the ground you walk on. Loves you. And with how young and fragile his pack is, using you as leverage makes the rest easy. He'll kill his betas, taking his rightful place in my pack. After which, killing you would be almost pleasurable for him. The easiest thing in the world."

Stiles swallowed back the bile that had risen in his throat. The mere idea of Derek doing something so detestable turned his stomach nine ways to Sunday. That the man he loved would kill for him. His own pack. The wolves that he had made and nurtured. The ones that he loved. And Stiles would've liked to think that Derek wouldn't. But he knew well of the man's temper. And what he could and would do when enraged. That being said, Stiles also knew what he could do. And how far he would go to protect the ones that he loved.

"It's kind of sad. All the time and effort you've put into this. Trying to get Derek to join you."

"You don't understand the power of lineage. The Hales have been wolves for centuries. Their alphas well known in the shadowy pages of our history. Having one would be most advantageous. Not that you could ever comprehend that. Being human." Deucalion sneered.

"Don't count us humans out so easily. I made it this far without being turned. And I intend to do so till the end. I'm the man who runs with wolves. You should be asking yourself why I've managed to make it this long."

"True. You are a most enduring individual. It takes a significant amount of willpower to be human in a wolf pack. Though I don't understand Derek's reluctance to turn you. You're excellent now. You'd be stupendous as a wolf. Future alpha material I wager."

"If that's your way of inviting me into your little Hellfire Club, no thanks. The Dark Side holds no appeal for me."

Deucalion sneered that sneer of his. The one that let the world know that he was in control of things. That he felt no fear and no hesitation. That he was the master of the game. That he wasn't going to lose. It was a confidence that transitioned into arrogance. Stiles knew that he didn't have a chance against this man in a fair fight. But, then again, no one ever accused him of playing by the rules.

The mad alpha moved in close. Face inches from Stiles' own. He smiled with fangs, skin turning grey and darkening in a strange and grotesque way. Stiles had seen wolves in full shift before. Hell, he had trained with them. But the way Deucalion looked…Stiles understood the title of Demon Wolf. The man looked absolutely abhorrent. So much so that is sent a shiver down Stiles' spine. for the first time, in a long time, he was legitimately terrified.

"I think I have a new idea. Derek will be hesitant to kill his pack to save you. But if I turn you, leave you to turn feral…That could speed the decision along. Derek wouldn't hesitate to kill one of his betas to keep them from killing you. And when it's all said and done, I'll snap your neck and Derek won't even budge."

Deucalion was deadly serious. Stiles knew he had to do something. And fast. The man before him felt no such thing as remorse or guilt. He would turn Stiles, and happily use for him his own personal gain. Being a werewolf wasn't on his plan for the future. But this man wasn't giving him much of a choice. So, he did what he had to do.

Part of his Chris' training was learning how to escape when captured. And not to toot his own horn, but Stiles was rather good at it. And Deucalion had put himself within distance of his teeth. The young man latched onto the wolf's nose with all his might. Clamping down and tearing through flesh and cartilage. Hot metallic blood filled his mouth. And piercing screams filled his ears. Payback was a bitch.

Deucalion stumbled backwards. Taken off guard by the sudden attack. Which gave Stiles his opening. Using all the might in his legs, he threw himself backwards. Smashing the chair into the ground. It shattered rather well. Enough for him to get his hands loose enough to reach his ankle. Where he had stored something rather useful in his pocket.

He had been practicing with mountain ash for a while. It was a specialty of his. Something that he could use at a moment's notice. Ensuring his capture and containment of an enemy. Deucalion was just on the verge of launching his counteroffensive when Stiles threw the mountain ash.

It lingered in the air for but a second before settling in a perfect circle around the wolf. He was effectively trapped with no way out. No matter how powerful a wolf one was, even an alpha, there was no way of getting out of it. Though it certainly didn't stop him from trying.

Deucalion grew enraged. Thrashing against the line of the barrier. Smashing against it with clawed hands. Trying desperately to break the line. Stiles had to admit, he was surprised it held. Given the dire circumstances in which he had made it. and the level of power Deucalion had as an alpha werewolf.

"You little shit."

"Told you not to underestimate me."

"You think you've won don't you? This changes nothing. Your simpering pack doesn't have the balls to kill me. Neither does that bitch that Derek calls a sister." Deucalion spat.

"I'm sure Derek will be more than happy to rip out your intestines."

"And he'll go mad for it. When a wolf kills an alpha, he takes their power. When he killed Ennis, he nearly went insane with the transformation. I heard that Laura had to lock him in the basement. What do you think will happen if he kills me? My power would drive him over the edge. And you'd have to put a bullet in his head to stop him. Not that you could."

Deucalion wasn't lying. Wolves, be they beta or alpha, took an alpha's power when they killed them. Derek was already on edge as an alpha. Trying to control his instincts and primal drives. The idea that he would gain even more power was a frightening one. One that Stiles knew would have a terrible result. Once they got here, Derek wouldn't hesitate in ripping Deucalion into multiple pieces. He would do it without so much as blinking. So, that gave Stiles only one option. He would have to find another way to remove Deucalion from being a problem. And he already had one.

Stiles was a firm believer in affirmative action. Taking steps to remove a threat before it became deadly. Eliminating someone from the equation as it were. Not necessarily killing them. But, in this instance, he didn't see any other way. Deucalion wasn't the kind of man to surrender. He wasn't the kind of man who accepted defeat. Stiles knew that. He also knew that the man's death was the only way that they would ever be safe. And he already had the means to ensure it.

The mountain ash blend he had used was the one he had been experimenting with. It contained both Wolfsbane and black powder. The result being a weakened barrier. One that could be cracked, given enough time and effort. But it also provided something else. A powerful offensive weapon. One that would kill any wolf unlucky enough to be trapped in it. All it took was a Spark.

Deaton had told him about such things when they first started training. His capacity to learn and preform magic. Stiles sneered at the thought. Werewolves were one thing. But the world of magic, in his mind, was card tricks and pulling rabbits out of a hat. Not actual spells and sorcery that could mold and reshape the world. He had of course tried nonetheless. With very limited results.

Deaton had said his talents lied in belief. The idea that his magic would work because it should work. Because he knew that it would. Stiles had to admit, he had a lack of confidence in that area. But here, in this place, with Deucalion trapped and at his mercy, he believed. He believed in the will of his self, and that he could do this. Consequences be damned. This mad had taken from them. Hurt his friends. Threatened the man that he loved. His pack. And that wasn't going to be allowed to stand.

He felt a course of energy run over his skin. Where it came from, he didn't know. But it certainly was strange. Stiles had train physically with Chris for weeks. Pushing his body to limits he didn't even know he had. This was something different. This power, it felt like it had been waiting for something to wake it up. Like it had been waiting for Stiles to acknowledge it. And he was here. And it was willing to be what he needed it to be.

The ropes around his hands fell away. As if they untied themselves. Falling to the ground in a heap. Deucalion stopped his huffing, surprised by the occurrence. There was a brief moment where he was obviously confused. Then, the man's nostrils flared, taking in the scent of what had been laced into the mountain ash. But he was too late.

"You little bastard. You don't have the-."

Stiles didn't give the man time to finish. He snapped his fingers. Willing his magic to work. And work it did. There was a small flash. A singe of white heat. And the ring of ash erupted into a cloud of murky smoke. The effect was instant and everything Stiles imagined it to be.

Deucalion wasn't just screaming. He was howling. Roaring in unbridled agony as the Wolfsbane did what it was meant to do. The poison laced smoke had covered him from head to toe. Lacing him in fiery pain. The man clawed at his eyes as they turned to goo. Slapped at his skin as it became covered in numerous, puss filled boils. And the last part, the part that was to cause the most pain, had already started to take effect.

The smoke had entered the man's lungs. Burning him from the inside out. Robbing his ability to breath. Stiles stood and watched as the man fell to the floor, writhing and thrashing. His body's healing trying so desperately to push the poison out of him. It didn't work. Deucalion flopped onto his back, screaming one last time before going still. He was dead.

Stiles felt his legs crumble from beneath him. Whatever had been holding him upright had faded and gone. Perhaps it was the power that he had summoned to kill Deucalion. Perhaps it was just the adrenaline. He didn't know. He was too tired to think. Too tired to stay awake. So, he closed his eyes as the darkness ate at the edges of his vision. The world became cold and distant. Just before everything fell into the void, he could've sworn he heard Derek's voice. Calling his name. And he thought to himself, this wasn't such a bad way to die.


	27. Chapter 27

Derek was accustomed to violence. It came with the territory of being a werewolf. The first time he shifted was a disaster. It hurt in ways he couldn't have imagined. His body twisted and contorted and warped. Bones reshaping. Skin on fire. Mouth alive with electricity. To say that it hurt would've been an understatement.

His mother actually had to restrain him. Even surrounded by pack, he was terrified. He was angry. He was not himself. The shift brought out the most primal and powerful drives in him. And with them came a strength that he didn't know he previously had. The urge to maim, bite, and slash. To rend everything in front of him was overwhelming. His mother had called it defensive mode. Where everything was perceived as a threat. Where everything was dangerous.

It got better after the first few years. Slowly. He got used to being a werewolf. As well as a teenager. But then, the universe had a sick sense of humor. Paige was his first love. The first person he ever had genuine feelings for. The woman that stole his heart. And when he killed her, it broke him in ways he didn't know was possible. The level of anguish he felt cut right down to his soul. Leaving a mark that lasted to the present. Kate was even worse.

Looking back, Derek saw her as the predator that she was. He was still grieving Paige. The loss of her touch. Her smile. Her kiss. Kate had come in, with long hair and shining white teeth. Perfect in every way he didn't know could be. He was defenseless. In every possible way.

The first time they fucked, Derek lost his mind. Paige was his first kiss. But they never went beyond that. He was afraid. Afraid of her finding out about what he really was. Who he was beneath the skin that appeared to be human. With Kate, things were different. She was wild and unrestrained. Taking Derek down to a place he didn't know existed. Where the lines of human and wolf blurred. It was fantastic. And it was his end.

Kate fucked him like her life depended on it. Like it was the only thing that mattered to her in the entire world. But, in all that passion, in all that whirlwind fury, she never once loved him. Never showed him any sign of affection. Any inclination of a romantic nature. Derek was too young and foolish to understand it then. But he understood it the night his family burned.

The smell of ashen wood and burnt flesh was one that he remembered well. One that scarred his mind to the present. A horror that he would never be able to forget. That his family had died because he was too weak and stupid to realize what Kate truly was. That he buried his parents, his cousins, all of them. With halfhearted apologies and a soul filled with regret. Today was no different.

They searched high and low for Stiles. Everywhere they though Deucalion and Kali could be hiding him. Derek wondered just what the mad wolf was doing to him. The man had no sense of mercy. No morality. Torturing an eighteen year old boy would be nothing to him. And Derek knew he was doing exactly that.

He tore through the edges of Beacon Hills. Trailing down every lead he could. That's of course when he came across Kali. He knew that woman and Ennis had something. It wasn't love. The both of them were far too twisted for that kind of thing. Far too gone from being human to even understand the concept of it. But she was fond of him. Enough to harbor unhindered rage at his death. Unfortunately for her, Derek's was greater.

The two of them clashed and clawed and bit. Slicing through one another just as quickly as they could heal. It hurt. It hurt in ways Derek didn't know could exist. At least, on a physical level. But the woman's usual grace and prowess were dimmed. Her rage dulling her speed and accuracy. Derek was never one for either. His strong points were sheer brute force and stamina. That, no one could match him on. And Kali wasn't one to even come close.

He crushed her throat under his foot. That satisfying crunch resonating in the darker parts of him. It felt good. Pleasant even, to end her life. After all the suffering and mayhem she had caused. All the innocent lives she had taken in the name of power. And it was power that flowed into him.

When he killed Ennis, the alpha power overwhelmed him. Like fire coursing through his blood. Scorching his insides. Reducing him to ash as his body rebuilt itself. It was the same as before. But now that he was an alpha, he knew what to expect. The power itself felt like it did before. But he was in no way overwhelmed. If anything, he was in far better control that he was the last time. That didn't bode well for Deucalion. No it was only a matter of finding the man.

The twins suggested something that should've been obvious to them from the beginning. That Deucalion would be using the same hideout as he had been the last few weeks. That his arrogance would've prevented him from considering a need in change. That he could hold his own against all of them. That hiding somewhere else was beneath him. Derek cursed himself for not seeing that possibility sooner.

They all headed to the warehouse district as quickly as they could. Wasting no time in gather their forces. Derek's focus was zeroed in. the only though on his mind was saving Stiles. That's when Lydia started to scream. Only, it wasn't so simple a thing. It was an all-consuming wail that pierced down into his skull. Rattling his brain and sending him to his knees. And it was in that moment that Derek realized the reason Lydia hadn't turned. Banshees couldn't become werewolves. But they could scream for the dead. Someone had just died. That Derek knew. It only mad him run harder.

When they got the warehouse district, there was blood. Derek couldn't see it. But he could smell it. Even over the repugnant odors of chemical refuse and neglect, it was clear as a bell. Hanging in the air like a violent calling card. And it was Stiles'. All of it was Stiles.

When they burst through the doors, the sight that lays before them is one that Derek knew would haunt him until his final days. Stiles lay on the ground. Body tattered, slashed, and broken. Deucalion had torn through him like he was made of paper. Flesh rendered down to the bone in some places. Skin pale and coated in a sheen of sweat. But by some miracle, he was still alive. Derek could hear his heartbeat. Faint and weak. But still there nonetheless. What wasn't, was Deucalion.

While Stiles had nearly been in pieces, Deucalion was completely and utterly destroyed. Derek hadn't know that the body could be rendered in that way. His eyes had liquefied and formed gelatinous puddles. Skin covered in an angry rash laced with gnarly puss filled boils. The skin on his lips and mouth flaked and blackened. Whatever Stiles had done, he had done it without mercy. He had killed the Demon Wolf.

Derek while amazed as well as confused, didn't have time for it. Stiles was barely hanging on by a thread. He needed a hospital and he needed it now. Thankfully, the sheriff had already arranged for an escort. They arrived to the ER in record time. There was even a procession of doctors waiting for him.

The emergency surgery was successful. From what they could gather. Stiles had lost a lot of blood. Enough to require a transfusion. But the injuries themselves weren't apparently life threatening. He had three cracked ribs. A mild concussion. And too many lacerations to count. Deucalion and Kali had really laid into him. Now, all they could do was wait. And wait they did.

The first night, nearly the entirety of both packs camped out in the emergency room lobby. Taking turns in going to see Stiles. Derek never left his room. None of the nurses were brave enough to try and remove him. He liked to think that the sheriff had some part to play in that. The others came and went. Spending what time they had to offer. There was little else that they could do. Isaac, Erica, Boyd, Scott and Jackson all had responsibilities at school. They were teenagers after all. And truancy, even for pack mates, wasn't excusable. Lydia being the exception.

The young woman had already gathered the necessary credits needed to graduate. She was more than within her right to ditch. Even if her uptight parents thought otherwise. Derek didn't protest her. He was in no room to argue with a woman of her caliber. Even if she hadn't yet realized the depth of who she was yet. Hopefully, it would remain that way for a while. Awakening banshees wasn't something that they could afford at the moment.

The first night was the hardest. Stiles came out of surgery, wrapped in bandages. Covered in stitches. Still unconscious. Derek assumed it was from the anesthesia. The others thought similarly. But when there was no change in the second night, he began to worry.

Stiles' vital signs were all good. Heartbeat. O2 levels. Temperature. Blood pressure. There was no logical reason as to why he had yet to wake up. Except, the situation they were was far from logical. It was Deaton who offered something close to an answer.

Stiles had somehow managed to kill Deucalion. One of the most powerful and fearsome werewolves in the world. Derek didn't know how. But Deaton did. Stiles had been experimenting with mountain ash blends. Turning the material from defensive, to offensive. Lacing it with Wolfsbane and black powder. All it took was a small spark to ignite it and the victim, if werewolf, would be dead in less than a minute. Deaton had an answer for that as well.

Apparently, while training Stiles, he discovered the young man's aptitude for magic. Actual, true magic. Not just knowledge and learning. But harnessing the innate power that lied within him. Manifesting into something tangible and real. Deaton had said that it was apparent from the beginning. That Stiles' ability to learn and think creatively were just the prelude to something far greater. To something that only Stiles could.

The man had said that Stiles' power had laid dormant until it was needed. Truly needed. When the circumstances had come about where he either would awaken or die. And awaken he had. To what level, no one knew. But it was more than enough to utilize his mountain ash blend to kill Deucalion. To eliminate their greatest enemy without effort. It of course, came with a price.

Stiles had suffered numerous injuries. Tortured beyond what any person should ever have to endure. His body ripped and slashed and broken. Derek was still amazed that he was even alive after it was all said and done. The fact that he had held on was a testament to his will and his strength. But such strength had its limits. And when Stiles awakened, it had been met.

The awakening itself had given him a temporary boost in strength. Rising to levels needed to do what he did. To kill Deucalion. To avenge his friends. But, after the task was done, the strength didn't dissipate. It took a nosedive off of a cliff. Causing Stiles to crash land straight on his face. couple that with his injuries, and it was no surprise as to why he had yet to wake up. The knowledge didn't make Derek feel any better.

Deaton was still looking for a way to help Stiles recover by day three. Derek was taking as much of Stiles' pain as he could manage. To keep him from suffering further. But it was doing nothing. There was no marked sign of improvement. Nothing that they did helped. So, Derek did the only thing he could do. He waited. And waited. And waited. By day four, he was ready to surrender to hopelessness.

The idea of not having Stiles, of never being able to show him how much he truly cared, was devastating. That the man who showed him love and kindness and adoration wasn't coming back. That the man who had helped him heal and grow was gone. It wasn't acceptable. And he had considered a more drastic option.

Laura had been the one to suggest it. In a sort of offhand kind of way. The idea of turning Stiles. Making him a werewolf. The idea itself wasn't a bad one. So long as the problem was a physical one. Werewolf healing could overcome just about anything. If there was something the doctors had missed, something that they hadn't seen, the bite could cure it. The bite could save his body. What came after, however, wouldn't be as easy.

Stiles had made it clear that he wanted to be human. That he found no fault in it. That being a werewolf wasn't something that he wanted or desired. So, Derek found himself torn. Whether or not to respect the man's wishes. Or to be selfish and take the risk of Stiles hating him. Not to mention the fact that the bite could also kill him. That the transformation process could cause Stiles' body to break down. Slowly and painfully. In a way that Derek wasn't ready to witness. Not again.

Losing Paige that way had been enough. Stiles was going to live. He was going to make it. And he was going to do it as a human. Not everyone agreed with his decision. Scott and Erica were the most vocal about Stiles being turned. They wanted their friend back. They wanted him home. With the pack. Isaac and Boyd were as torn as Derek. They knew the risks of the bite. And what Stiles himself wanted. But they also knew that he wanted to be human. And so, again, all they could do was wait.

Day five was the hardest yet. Derek didn't eat. He barely slept. In the end, he stayed by Stiles' bedside. Hoping for something. Anything. A miracle that would bring back the man he loved. But there was nothing. Deaton came up empty handed. Laura and the others were left as despondent as Derek. Thinking that there was nothing that they could do to save him.

That night, Derek sat next to Stiles, fingers laced into his. A tight grip. As if he could pull him back from wherever he was. But he could do nothing. So, he cried. He cried shameless tears. Unrestrained and without limit. Derek didn't care. He had earned them. He had every right to them. It was the piece that sliced through him. The straw that broke the camel's back. He could feel himself fall apart. And just as the pieces turned to dust, he felt a grip within his own.

It was enough of a surprise that he stilled for a moment. Just enough that his mind and heart skipped. That the entirety of existence came to a screeching halt. Then, he looked up to the smile that he had missed so very much.

Stile was grinning, ear to ear. The edges of his eyes crinkled in joy. Pale skin, for the first time in nearly a week, full of color. He too, was crying. But not out of despair, hopelessness, or grief. He was smiling out of joy. And of course, the first words he said to Derek were to match.

"Fancy seeing you here, Sourwolf." Derek didn't even bother to be quiet. He was too busy kissing his boyfriend.


	28. Chapter 28

Stiles liked to consider himself as a strong, willful individual. Not to say that other people hadn't suffered worse than he had. But there was plenty that he had to contend with in his life. Namely, and most importantly, the death of his mother. The light of his world.

He was but a mere eleven years old at the time. At that strange stage of not quite a child, but not quite grown. Learning the true value of his own independence. It was a turbulent time for anyone. Learning about the way the world works and runs. Seeing the truth of it all. Through it all, his mother was there.

She was a bright, happy woman. Always smiling and never having so much as a worry in the world. Stiles never saw her in any other way. Perhaps that's what made it harder for him. When the illness struck, it was in small and subtle ways. Forgetting important dates. Losing track of time. Things like that. He and his father thought nothing of it at first. Until it took a nose dive and descended into hell.

His mother, once bright and happy, became paranoid and withdrawn. Fearful of the outside world. Suspecting the worst of anyone and everyone. Even her own son. She didn't recognize his face anymore. Didn't know that for the last eleven years, she had been his mother. The woman that loved and cared for him. It hurt in a way that went beyond the physical. Cutting right down to the deepest reaches of his soul.

From there, matters only became more difficult. She would wander out of the house. Walking barefoot through town. Having no idea where she was. Or even what the day happened to be. More than a few times, the sheriff got a call about his wife having been picked up. She was never hurt. But there were more than a few close calls. Stiles could only watch as it all happened.

He tried his best to understand. To comprehend what was happening to his mother. The doctors did their best to explain it. A form of dementia. Where the brain essentially started to whither in on itself. Causing all that made one who they were to vanish into the void of nothingness. There was no treatment. There was no cure. There was no way to stop it. All they could do was wait for the inevitable. And it was a terrible wait.

His mother's mind fell further into a world that made less and less sense. Where everything was terrifying. Where everything was a threat. Where everything was dangerous. Towards the end, she even feared Stiles. Her own son. Thought him a demon sent to kill her. She screamed terrible things. Things that no child should ever have to hear. In the end of it all, she only recognized her husband. And even then, only just.

She died in her sleep. Away from the world that terrified her so. Stiles was at least thankful for that. If nothing else. But it left a serious and profound weight on him. One that he never quite managed to shake. Even so many years later. It had made him stronger. Made him who he was today. But that didn't quite prepare him for what Deucalion would do.

He knew the man was a certifiable psychopath. That he felt no remorse and recourse for whatever he did. No matter whom he hurt or killed. The man remained a stone wall of nothingness. Simply existing as powerful entity consumed with idea of his own vanity. Stiles knew this. But still, he wasn't prepared.

When he awoke in the warehouse, he figured that Deucalion would question him. Inquire into their plans. Wanting to know exactly what they had in mind to defeat him. As any good strategist would do. He even expected to be tortured. Being a teenager made no difference. What he wasn't expecting, was how far Deucalion would take it. Or how much he would enjoy it.

The man sliced through him with his claws. Rendering his flesh apart. Smiling that wicked smile. Seeming to enjoy the sound of Stiles' screams. There was no one else to hear them. No one to help him. No one to help end the pain. So, it continued. For what felt like an eternity. Stiles could only sit and endure and the man sliced harder and deeper. Drawing more pleasure from his pain.

After what seemed like a lifetime, the man stopped. Stepping back to admire his work. To gloat and stroke his own ego. Stiles found in that moment, his weakness. Deucalion had given himself the title of Demon Wolf. The alpha of alphas. Naturally, he was a rather prideful bastard. And as the saying went, pride cometh before the fall. And fall he did.

Stiles never intended or desired to kill anyone. Yes, the man had attacked his friends. Endangered their lives. But still, the idea of taking a life was one that he didn't want to dwell on. But Deucalion presented himself as an exception. One that Stiles didn't have the luxury of ignoring. And so, he killed him.

He wasn't expecting the reaction from the mountain ash to be so violent. Or so painful. He expected the death to be quick. Not painless. But quick. It wasn't. Deucalion suffered rather harshly before he finally surrendered to the void. Stiles didn't find himself enjoying it. At the very least, he could take comfort in that. That he wasn't like the man whose life he had just ended. And it was a life. A life now gone from the world. Such an action came with consequences.

The first night after he awoke was the hardest. The world seemed distant and out of place. A swirling mist of confusion and pain. He was still healing from the torture. The pack was there for him the entire time. Never leaving his side unless absolutely needed. It was almost annoying. But he endured their smothering tendencies. Letting himself be babied and coddled. It was the only thing he could do.

When the first nightmare came, he awoke screaming into the dark night air. Gasping for breath. Clutching his chest so that his heart might not burst through. It was painful. Both for his body and his mind. The terror of what Deucalion had put him through coming back strong and merciless. Derek was there for him. That night. And every night since. But it wasn't just the torture that haunted him.

Objectively, he knew Deucalion was an evil man with no sense of guilt. That he had destroyed many lives. Human and werewolf, in his quest for the so called perfect pack. For nothing more than a vain attempt to acquire power. That, with his death, he had avenged every last life Deucalion had ended. And had also prevented many more from being destroyed. That being said, it wasn't any easier.

No matter how evil the man may have been. No matter the sins he may have committed, he was a human being. One that had a life and dreams. Even if they were twisted ones. He wasn't always so. There was a man behind the madness. Someone who once was kind and gentle. At least, that's what Stiles had hoped. The idea of someone always being that sick in the head made his stomach turn. And in the end, he had killed him.

In defense of himself. In defense of his pack. In defense of his family. In defense of Derek. The people he loved and cherished more than anything else in the world. And he knew that it was the right thing to do. But it didn't make it any easier. Nightmares filled with singed flesh and puss haunted him as often as being tortured. Derek was there through all of them. Holding him until the screaming stopped. When he was able to realize that he wasn't in the world he feared. It made things slightly better.

Eventually, he no longer feared sleep. No longer dreaded the idea of being awake. Stiles found his courage, his strength. And made his way back into the world. The first time he stepped outside after leaving the hospital, his father cried. Not out of sadness. But out of joy. His son had come back. If only a little. Derek did his best not to join the crying fest.

School was…Different. There was no way to hide what had happened to him. Beacon Hills was a small place to begin with. And there was no hiding what he had been the hospital for. People began talking about kidnapping and torture and revenge plots. That someone had taken Stiles in an effort to get back at the Sheriff. To make him pay in some manner. It wasn't entirely false. But nowhere near the truth either.

Stiles endured the rumors as best he could. Better for people to think such things rather than learn the actual truth. Werewolves were a big enough problem on their own. The general populace learning of them would have presented a whole new set of complications. Thankfully, Chris was there for that part as well.

News of Deucalion's demise spread quickly through out the shadowy underground. All different types heard of the Demon Wolf's death. And the reactions varied. Many celebrated. Some were angry. Many were confused. The exact details had been kept secret. The idea that an eighteen year old human had been the one to do the man in was unthinkable. Many wanted to know the full truth. Both hunters and werewolves alike.

Chris funneled the former away. Keeping them out of the reaches of the town. Protecting the peace. Derek handled the less than civil alphas that didn't want to take no for an answer. No conflict ever came about. And no one died. Thankfully. But it was still an added stressor to Stiles' already stressful life. He didn't want to be the center of attention anymore.

Eventually, the pack settled down. Derek wasn't as clingy. The others didn't follow him around, making sure that he was safe. That he was out of harm's way. It was a welcome relief given all that they had been through in the past weeks. Stiles was grateful for their concern. But some days, he just needed to be alone. Away from the rest of the world. Away from anyone and everyone.

He wondered just how long it was supposed to hurt. How long what had happened to him would weigh upon his mind. The wounds still fresh and healing. Time did not heal all things. Contrary to belief. Time only allowed one the ability to reflect and learn. And he had learned a rather astonishing amount about himself.

Namely, that he was more vulnerable than he thought. That, while he had trained and learned and studied, the world still had plenty to throw at him. That life wasn't kind or fair or just. That it would give you a shitty hand and expect you to deal with it. One way or the other. The lesson was hard and he never forgot what had led him down the path he was on. Of course, that didn't make it any easier to understand. Thankfully, he had plenty of people to help him through it.

The others were as understanding as they could be. That some days, no matter how good things were, he wasn't quite all there. That the darker parts of his trauma came out. Tainting the days in ways that couldn't be helped. The anxiety. The depression. The irritability. All of it. They understood that it wasn't their fault. That he was trying his best. And that, for the moment, he was just a little bit broken.

Derek, of course, was his bedrock. His foundation. The man he loved didn't ask questions. Didn't pressure him to go out and be the vibrant young man he once was. Some things weren't so simple. And Derek understood that. Better than anyone. Stiles knew the gravity and value of that understanding.

They spent most nights together. In one form or another. Derek would stop by his house, if only for a few hours. They would watch movies absentmindedly. Talking about nothing. Nothing that mattered anyway. Trying to find their rhythm again. Trying to make sense of a world that seemed to have abandoned the very concept.

Stiles tried to find the courage to talk about what happened. To Derek. To his father. To his friends. But at the same time, he didn't want them to know the exact details of what had been done to him. the pain he had endured. The horror of what Deucalion had inflicted. The lot of them already felt guilty enough. He didn't want to add any more to it.

But he knew that bottling things up and storing them away wasn't the answer. That hiding his feelings, keeping them locked tight would solved nothing. And who better to help him than Derek. It was just the matter of bringing it up. And he did it in the only way he knew how. Bluntly.

"When you killed Ennis, what did it feel like?" The question was important and a little tactless. But he didn't know any other way to ask. Any other way to try and understand Derek's perspective on things. To learn from someone who had already been through what he had. The answer was typical Derek.

"It felt…Right. He had violated my sister. Disrespecting her in more ways than one. The wolf approved. The man didn't. Which was the hardest part. Knowing that there were two sides of me that conflicted."

"Did you regret it?" Stiles asked.

"For a while. I never wanted to be an alpha. Laura was fit for that role. Trained for it by our mother. I was more than willing to be her beta. But when the wolf saw Ennis' actions, I reacted before I could even think. It hurt in a way I didn't expect. Being cut off from her and Cora. Two alphas can't be in the same pack. Not naturally. Unless they're a mated pair."

"Did it hurt?"

"Like nothing else. My sisters…The two that had survived the fire. My only family, my pack. When I became an alpha, I lost them in a way. I couldn't feel them anymore. It drove me close to insanity. Laura spent months keeping me under control. It was hard. Along with the knowledge that I had killed someone. Even if he was a murderous douche."

Stiles tried to understand the idea of what Derek had endured. Of what he had been through. He had lost Paige. Whom he killed to end her suffering. He was betrayed and used by Kate. He had burned his family. He had killed Ennis and Kali, who had threatened the people that he loved. Stiles had done something similar. But he didn't feel quite as comfortable in his own skin.

There was an aching edge behind his eyes. A tingling at the back of his skull. As if to say, he was waiting for the final shoe to drop. As it were. There was a sense that something even worse was coming that he was trying to find the place that he knew and understood. But he was having some trouble getting there. He knew Derek found his way. Somehow. But he didn't quite understand how he managed to do it. that was the real problem.

"Does it ever get any better?" Stiles asked.

"No. But it does get easier. Eventually, you learn to live with what has passed. To understand that it can't be changed or undone. And that's the most important thing."

Stiles, at the very least. Could accept that. That notion that, eventually, with the help of the people that he loved, he could come back from the brink of madness. That he could be not quite whole, but not quite broke either. He had a plethora of people to stand beside him. To help him learn and heal and grow. To help him understand that he was loved and cherished. That he mattered. But most importantly, he had Derek. And in the end, at the moment, that's all he really needed.


	29. Chapter 29

_**3 Years Later**_

Good. If that's how Derek was going to describe things, he would've said that they were good. That the present state of his life and of his pack, was as best as it could be. That the various roads they had led themselves down had been worth it. But that had not been easy. No, by no means had it been easy.

There were many trials after Stiles' release from the hospital. He was shaky. Jittery. On edge and ready to blow a fuse at the slightest provocation. Derek in no way blamed him for it. Horrific torture tended to hurt one in ways that cut deeper than flesh. It was a pain that would leave a scar on Stiles' soul for the rest of his life. All Derek could do was be there. And he was.

Through every nightmare. Every panic attack. Every day in which Stiles couldn't be Stiles. The days where the darker parts of him were just a bit too strong. And strong they were. There was a shadow across his mind. A darkness, if you will. One that showed every so often. Just to remind them that it was still here. That it wasn't going away. That Stiles was still and would forever be healing.

But it didn't come without its advantages. Stiles, for all he was worth, hated to lose. And in some sick, twisted way, he felt that he had lost. That being captured and tortured was some manner of a failure. That he needed to get stronger. Derek, as well as the others, did their best to convince him otherwise. That he was already strong. But as Stiles always did, he loved proving people wrong.

He learned, studied day and night. Everything he could about the world that was now their own. About magic and werewolves and life. About all the things that made sense and none. He was frighteningly good at it. Much to no one's surprise. Derek was in awe of him. The way it seemed to be so effortless. The way that he managed to grow each and every day. He could only hope to match him.

He trained the betas, day and night. Teaching them what it meant to be pack. What it meant to be a werewolf. He taught them how to fight and how to survive. They were as good as Stiles. Learning new and more creative techniques every day. Progressing at a rate Derek didn't know was possible. And a good thing to. For there were those who made sure that they used them. Not that they always worked.

The first pack that came for them was numerous but uncoordinated. Their only strength being numbers. Nothing else. But there were people that they needed to protect. Those that they needed to keep safe. It wasn't as if they could rage out in the streets. Hacking and clawing and slashing as they saw fit. That made things more difficult for them.

The other pack didn't seem to care very much. They were willing to wage war wherever and whenever they saw fit. It was an ever present thorn in Derek's side. But eventually, they crossed a line that couldn't be ignored. They went straight for the humans of both packs. Or rather, what they thought were humans. Either way, it pissed him off.

Lydia was the first. The red haired vixen was seemingly innocuous. Not presenting herself as much of a threat. Much to their alpha's misfortune. Her scream was able to be heard from miles away. Even by humans. Up close and personal, it was enough to kill. And it did.

The first beta to die was found with his brain leaking out of his ears. Screaming for mercy as his life ended. Or so Derek was told. He wasn't there at the time of said death. All he knew is that those who retreated, did so with their tails between their legs. He was rather proud of Lydia for that. Not many outside of Hunters could take on multiple wolves at once and walk away unscathed. The next attack did not have the same results.

Derek got the call in the middle of the night. He was exhausted from his patrol duties. Taking some much needed rest. Though, when he was told that Allison was in the hospital. Nearly half of her leg torn from her body. He was there in record time. The others were present as well. Doing their best not to disrupt the ER waiting room. It was an ongoing effort.

The surgery took nearly ten hours. With three transfusions and at one point, her heart stopped. It was touch and go even afterwards. Chris was there, along with Victoria. Hands clasped together, their faces indifferent masks. The two of them still didn't like Derek very much. But tolerated his presence. Along with the others.

He knew better than to offer the bite. Which, if successful, would've healed the young woman. Minimalized her time recovering. So on and so forth. Allison was born a hunter. Would live as a hunter. And would die a hunter. There was no other path for her. No other choice. And Derek respected it. As did Scott and Isaac.

The three of them were odd. In a good way. Scott and Allison were back together. And with them, Isaac. Acting as some manner of an adhesive for the two of them. Keeping them together when the rest of the world wanted to tear them apart. Derek didn't exactly understand the nature of that kind of relationship. But he was happy for them. As happy as they could be.

The attack tested Scott and Allison in more ways than one. The latter hating her loss of independence during her recovery. Scott was overbearing and insufferable. Doing anything and everything for her. Much to the young woman's disdain. It wasn't that long before things came to a head, along with a screaming match.

Derek didn't make a point to get between them. Yes, they were pack. But their personal lives were their own. And he knew better than to interfere. In the end, they decided to wait till things settled down. To wait until the other pack was driven out till they decided anything. Which, as it turns out, happened sooner rather than later.

Arrogance was never one attribute Derek associated himself with. The other alpha, was very much the opposite. He actually tried to mount an assault on the house. The end result being his absolute and utter defeat. To no one's surprise. Derek's betas were well trained and worked as a team. Then there was of course, Stiles.

Allison had her bow. Lydia had her scream. Stiles, he had his sheer will and staggering brutality behind him. Mercy wasn't a concept he understood or even cared about. Not remotely. He came charging in. swinging a ridiculous metal bat. Cracking shins and skulls. The werewolves from the other pack didn't know what to think. Of this gangly human boy tearing through them with no fear or hesitation.

Derek silently smiled even as he tore through them. As he clawed and bit. He knew what Stiles was truly capable of. What he would do to protect his pack. What he would do to keep the one's he loved safe and away from harm. The others had underestimated him. And it the cost was by no means cheap.

At the end of it all, the other pack was on the hands and knees. Half dead and unable to fight back. Derek was more than ready to spare the alpha. Who was somehow still breathing. He wasn't the type to kill when someone offered surrender. But Victoria Argent didn't share that sentiment. Not by a longshot. She put three rounds in the man's head without blinking. Splattering his brains on the ground. Derek by no means blamed her. Not where Allison was concerned.

They buried the bodies of their enemies. Giving them a respectful burial. The others slunk away, knowing full and well that Beacon Hills would not be taken without a fight. And while Derek lost no lives on his end, they did not escape without their own form of damages.

Scott and Allison didn't patch things up. There was a rift between them. A void that couldn't be crossed or traversed. There was fault on both ends. Things that neither of them were willing to concede on. Where compromise simply wasn't an option. And while they had ended things, they at least ended them amicably. Derek could at least be grateful for that. Isaac was less so.

The young man made an excellent wolf because of his devotion. His loyalty. His trust. But he didn't have much of a stomach for violence. Yes, he would fight to defend himself and his pack. But at his core, he detested it. Which Derek understood. He was able to comprehend the man's reasoning. He had been pressed under the thumb of a violent man most of his life. Violence wasn't something he derived pleasure from. And there was nothing wrong with that.

When Scott and Allison ended their relationship, the young man was torn. The both of them were pack and friends. Two people he counted himself close to. He couldn't choose. For a long while, he cut himself off from both of them. Isolating himself away from them. Trying to understand what had happened. Things stayed that way for a while.

Eventually, either by fate or by happenstance, Scott found himself another girlfriend. Beacon Hills attracted all types. Much the rare and exotic. Somehow, a kitsune found its way into their lives. She was slender and raven haired. With a smile brighter than the sun. Kira was a young woman of clumsy joy and unmistakable charm. Derek didn't know why she came to Beacon Hills. He never bothered to ask. She just seemed to fit.

Scott and Kira progressed with each other quickly. Establishing themselves in a way that was easy and unforced. Allison wasn't the least bit sour about it. She had someone else as well. Somewhere along the way, she and Isaac became a thing. Transitioning to more than friends. With a gentle sort of grace. Fitting together without complication.

In the end, things even worked out for Boyd and Erica. The two of them finding their peace among all the madness of their world. The chaotic swirl of blood and insanity had finally settled for them to find themselves. Who they were. What they wanted. Which was each other. Derek was happy for them. He was happy for all of them. But none more so than himself.

For the first time, in a long time, he was truly happy. He had a pack of his own. One that he was proud to lay claim to. To call his betas his betas. To live and stand tall in a world that had once tried to destroy him. He found himself content and happy with the state of things. Especially Stiles.

The young man had been tried and tested. Broken and reshaped. Torn down and rebuilt. He was fragile and furious. Immovable and ever moving. He was human. Completely and utterly human. The foil to Derek in every way that he needed. A circumstance, wrapped in an enigma, topped with a sarcasm laced bow. He was Stiles. And he was here.

Derek didn't know at what point they found themselves again. When the horror of pain and broken bones became a murky memory. One day, he had realized it. With something as simple as Stiles' laugh. That genuine, beautiful laugh. The one that turned Derek's head. Making pause in heartbeat and breath. The one that made the world halt for a seemingly perfect second.

From there, things moved easily and without complication. The betas graduated from high school. Already adults in a world that still thought them to be children. Derek knew better. Being a werewolf, or a banshee, or a kitsune caused one to grow much quicker. In the mind at least. The lot of them were ahead of their years. Seeing farther into the every expanding horizon. They knew that they were here and that they were pack. But the future was funny in its ways.

College was always an option for Lydia. The young woman may appear vapid and empty headed. But she had a wit that transcended the layman. Able to have her pick of school as she saw fit. Jackson was less than pleased with her moving across the country. Derek was proud. He hugged her the day she left wishing her well. The others cried. Stiles was among them.

Scott, Isaac, and Allison all opted for local schools. Staying close to home. Where the dawns were familiar and the nights splendid. Erica and Boyd opted for a year off. Taking themselves along the road. Traipsing across the country. Finding wide open spaces and enjoying every minute of it. Stiles was, of course, Stiles.

The letter from the FBI's entry program came as no surprise. Stiles was quick witted. Strong. And relentless. Derek wasn't upset. On the contrary. He beamed with pride at the young man's accomplishment. Finding a joy he didn't know he had. The sheriff and Melissa both felt the same. There was some manner of bitter sweetness to it.

The program, of course, was on the other side of the country. Thousands of miles away. And no matter of calls or texts or Skype calls would change that. Derek knew it. Stiles knew it. But they didn't complain about it. Instead, they fucked.

They fucked slow and easy. Spending a night together before Stiles' departure. Enjoying the shape and warmth of each other's bodies. Tasting the salt and sweat on each other's skin. Engraining the vision of moonlight streaming in as far down in their memories as they could. Derek enjoyed every minute of it.

Come the morning, Stiles kissed him goodbye before leaving for the airport. It was a good kiss. One full of promises and hopes and dreams. A promise to come back. That they would see each other again and that no distance could take away what was theirs.

Some days were easier than others. Some days weren't. Derek loved his pack. And instinct demanded that they stay close. That they be together. That they all share and love and fight and laugh. But he knew the way of the world. That he would not consign them to being rooted in one place. Forever unable to move. Yes, it was hard. But it was worth it.

Stiles came home after what felt like an eternity. Hair long and shaggy. The beginnings of a beard sprouting around his face. Derek could no longer see him as young. He was a man in every sense of the word. In body. In mind. In soul. He was beautiful and sexy. And the first thing he did was jump into Derek's arms. Kissing him like a dying man gasping for air.

He didn't care that they were in the middle of an airport. That other people were watching and staring. Neither did Derek. But what he did care about, was when Stiles got down on one knee. Tiny little velvet box in hand. Because apparently their lives were a Hallmark movie.

The ring itself was simple titanium. Nothing flashy or eye catching. Subtle and everything that Derek loved. Stiles had picked it especially for him. He didn't need to ask the words. He said yes before anything else. Before the world, the universe could find any way to ruin the moment. Derek said yes.

Stiles kissed again. Even more shamelessly than before. And once again, Derek found himself not caring. This was theirs. Their moment. Their happiness. After everything the world had taken from them, it would take no more. They had their bliss. And it was irreplaceable.

The sheriff was less than thrilled to have such news so soon after Stiles had gotten home. The others, not so much. Erica, Lydia, and Allison apparently loved to watch wedding shows. So the idea of planning one sent them into a frenzy. Kira went along with their antics as best she could. Derek didn't even bother trying to wrangle them in.

Isaac, Scott, and Boyd were themselves. Making tiny little jokes and the like. Derek didn't care. Stiles had given him a piece of his heart. His soul. His body. His love. Yes, the world would continue to test them. To throw such hurdles and obstacles and so on. But he had his pack. He had his sisters. He had Stiles. And that, was more than enough.


End file.
